Ice Cream Cake

(for my dad, who’s not here)

It’s your birthday,
and you’re not here.

I’m still right here.
Moving through my days
in the same house, the same place.

some things have changed.
I mean,
it has been ten years
since I saw you.

A lot of time has passed and now,

I don’t miss you
any more.

I hardly ever think of you
the very moment I wake up.

You’re not on my mind
a thousand times a day.

I don’t see your face
everywhere I look.

I no longer have the urge to call you
sixty times a week.

I don’t cry at the mention of your name
every single time.

I do not feel the overpowering all-encompassing gut wrenching emptiness in my heart
every second of every hour.

No. I don’t. I don’t miss you
any more.

But it might be different
as I move through this day,
in this place where you once were,
in this house that you once knew.

Because I’m still here. Right here.
And you, you are not.
And it’s your birthday.


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