Celebrating my birthday two months late

Amy Lipman

It had to be perfect since I, too, am lovely
And made of betrayal between two golden parties
The sun went down and he knocked on my door
Drove past lecture halls and trees
Always offered me wine but I never took it
My mind was at rest and my hands were on fire
We loved the mattress
The white sheets
The blanket
Warmth was for me
But the window was his
I’ve never asked for more than a window