i know there is a god because there is
my cousins and me
on new year’s eve’s eve in the year of
whoever the fuck wrote the gregorian calendar
twenty twenty three
here we are: playing hackeysack in the kitchen
sweating through our winter sweaters,
ornamental in this the hottest year of the last
one hundred and
twenty
five
thousand
years
prior on this earth
see us: drinking the pickle brine
singing all our old songs
racing each other down the sidewalk
all of us gluttonous in our long-leggedness
our togetherness, our having grown taller than our mothers-ness
having moved out of their houses
and survived everything up until now
we are the granddaughters of an old woman with a thousand faces
we are the daughters of her daughters,
mothers who sowed their pain into their bones so they would die with it,
who taught us to mind our manners and keep our secrets well
no, we cannot be their children
we are the children of ourselves
raised by the eldest among us
no, it was the youngest
who taught us that life is not just an apology
who showed us how to tear through the suburbs on new year’s eve’s eve
all your breath gone
and still running