my perfect birthday,
in my mind, pre-corona,
would never be this



(there might be mountains,
a fondue restaurant, views
not in the background)

but with so much time
and simply nowhere to go
love works its way in




my middle’s painting,
a dress hand sewn by my mom,
hand-dipped strawberries

and saved till tonight
my oldest breaks, repairs me
with this card; her words

my perfect birthday
brought to me by a virus
with two gifts: Time. Love.