Drawers are rifled and rejected,
Corners inspected,
Best guesses anyone’s for the making.
Maybe this is not the time
But shining is important, so we dig quicker.
We are searching for candles,
For the first of two birthdays
Ticked off in swift succession,
Successfully silent, cardless
Except for, in each instance,
A different, solitary, stubborn gifter.
We are searching for candles
Tiny, delicate, beckoning heavy breaths,
A gesture against this… situation,
The one we stopped naming –
Another small wall against the sign
On every site, the flash panels dimmed.
We are searching for candles
And I neglect to mention the job lot
Bought before anyone else could get them,
Seeing in myself the excesses rendered
By a different childhood, remembering
Water shortages and powercuts the others dodged.
We are searching for candles
And the big ones – tucked into a corner
Of my tiny study, sturdy, quarantine
Against panic and not yet welcome,
A bet placed against ever needing them –
Weigh, plain and ponderous on my drifting mind.
We are searching for candles
We don’t have forty-five
(If we have any
(We must have some – I’ve met me))
And, even if we did, there would be
More wax than cake, more flame than flavour.
We are searching for candles
Three people who want to sing forth brightness,
Post positivity,
Eager to confirm that this is unique,
Frantic for fripperies,
Scintillating colours to cover reality.
We find the candles
Stuffed among the cloth napkins,
A full drawer that no-one ever moves,
Choosing to eschew using something
That smacks of pretension,
Trousseau to impossible parenthood.
We light the candles,
Nine in total,
Sing, hold breaths,
And wish,
And wish,
And wish…
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