Anniversary
The real worlds naturally start with spring
And so are out of phase
My made-up world starts in pitch and cold
The Chinese have their own beginning
So did the Mayans but that’s over now
Maybe at the deepest bottom of the ocean
Where life eats heat
A different beat
Enforces a rhythm
Strange and discrete
Or in the darkest caves
The blind fish
Have only the water’s splash
To make now from past
A mother of eighteen