Used to bring me sticks
Gorgeous piles of wood
The envy of every woodshed
Used to give me the gift of rivers
Whole oceans laid out before me
Waves of wrapping teared open
A banquet for one thousand
Wet mouths working tirelessly
Would find perfectly impossible
To swallow up whole
It would take forever and still
Take a miracle to finish
Used to give me the earth
Rubbed tenderly against me
Stinging cheeks with its richness
Gave me the gift of thyself
In all it’s terrible joy
And fractious anxiety such
Noble revelatory terror
The sweetest gifts
The envy of every other man
One by one
I watched the present
Being taken away from me
With no apology
Or understanding
Never sure why they left
Or where they
Would ultimately go
If they would ever return
Now I sit alone
On another precious
Birthday my favorite
Day taken from me
Night fleeing always
Too infinitely
Gripping the sun
In my bed knowing
This too will go
The gifts my men
Have given me
So full and empty
My beautiful boys
If only I knew how
To craft myself
A perfect toy
That would never
Break again
Cyn Grace Sylvie 