For My Birthdays

I was barely there,
Passed out and now
Unable to recall anything,
The screaming, hers
Or mine, the blood,
And the light, which was either
A beautiful moon or
A terrible eye, the first one
Having a look at me.

What a terrible party it must have been,
I’m glad I missed most of it,
Was sent to bed early and allowed
To sleep while everyone else
Worried about the mess.

Now every year we try and make it up,
For those who may still remember,
And for those who were there,
Causing the walls the shake
While turning the floor wet.

Simple water pressure
And gravity pulled me out,
I could not run, even walk,
My arms were weaker
Than my tongue,
I did not crawl into this world,
I was pushed, and
If I had been stronger,
I might still be there in storage
With mother on her back and father
Always building a bigger crib.

Still I am here, and that
Is always the given reason
When all others fail
And no gifts exchanged,
For a celebration.
I have survived,
Grown and learned to cry
About the things
The world truly cares about,
Not realizing that the first time
That I was wet and dirty,
A risk to the health of others,
And naked.

Published by Benjamin Nardolilli

A little bit about myself, I am a twenty four year old writer currently living in Arlington, Virginia. My work has appeared in Houston Literary Review, Perigee Magazine, Canopic Jar, Lachryma: Modern Songs of Lament, Baker’s Dozen, Thieves Jargon, Farmhouse Magazine, Elimae, Poems Niederngasse, Gold Dust, The Delmarva Review, Underground Voices Magazine, SoMa Literary Review, Heroin Love Songs, Shakespeare’s Monkey Revue, Cantaraville, and Perspectives Magazine. In addition I was the poetry editor for West 10th Magazine at NYU and maintain a blog at Thanks for reading

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