Following is a rewrite of a poem I once wrote a few years back called "Birthday Card". When I say a rewrite I mean it is a new poem on the same subject, they are two very different beasts.

I am not known for giving cards of any sort and find it very difficult to give presents often struggling to know what to buy and its never a comfortable experience. It's also not a comfortable experience to be on the receiving end and I find it hard to show appreciation. It has and still is a hollow experience.

There is a reason for this, the legacy of my mother imprinted on me from a very young age where mom was a name on a card or on a gift tag for a very brief moment before that too disappeared but also the counter balance of my father who has always said it is what you do for people which is the most important. Things you cannot buy.

The Card

A broken viaduct had a kidney stone.
It arrived in a stone glass window with three friends in formal suits
tucked inside like preachers over memorial stones.

One friend had my name,
the other only two heart beats to herald the play and the third a
long oval velociraptor eating, which ate all my friends

until no one brought a broken viaduct with a kidney stone
or remembered my name
except for the long oval velociraptor eagerly chewing on my arm.