Anniversary
Billy Collins’ poem, “Anniversary,”
tells of a baby being born on the day
someone dies such that the baby’s birthday
is always a commemoration of the dead
person’s life. Who died on my birthday,
June 7, 1950? I’m gonna crank up the
Google machine right now and check that out.
The only famous person I can find who died
on my birthday is Charles S. Howard, the millionaire
owner of the famous racehorse, Seabiscuit.
Oh for god’s sake! How humiliating.
Who has heard of Charles S. Howard?
He’s not famous, his horse is. Couldn’t have
some internationally known novelist or poet
have died on my birthday? A Nobel Laureate,
or even a famous acrobat or lion tamer, or possibly
an all-around world champion bronco rider?
What about a guy who, single handedly, pulled
twenty fellow marines out of quicksand in Korea
after one of his hands had been blown off
by a grenade so that he had, quite literally,
saved them single handedly? But no, the guy
with whom I celebrate every birthday never
did anything but own a horse.
Who the hell was Charles S. Howard anyway? I bet
he’d never ridden a horse. I bet he spent his time
drinking mint julips, smoking stinky cigars, and
reading the newspaper at his exclusive men’s club
while he sat in a red leather chair that made fart
noises every time he changed position.
Then again, who am I to whine that no one famous
died on my birthday? What will the person born
on my death day think about me?
Oh great, on the day I was born some obscure,
unknown, minor poet, not even a footnote
on Duotrope, some verbigerator obsessed with
nuns and death who, as an atheist, claimed
he had no soul and whose soul, therefore,
had nowhere to go, died on the day I was born.
Not only didn’t he own a famous racehorse,
he didn’t even possess a famous moose,
or turtle, or anteater.
I want to apologize now, before my demise,
to the poor bloke or lass who draws my death
to commemorate on his or her birthday.
I’m sorry. Make a wish. Blow out the candles.
Live a good and decent life.
- © Charlie Brice 2021
Charlie Brice is the winner of the 2020 Field Guide Magazine Poetry Contest and is the author of Flashcuts Out of Chaos (2016), Mnemosyne’s Hand (2018), An Accident of Blood (2019), and The Broad Grin of Eternity (forthcoming), all from WordTech Editions. His poetry has been nominated for the Best of Net Anthology and three times for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, Chiron Review, Pangolin Review, The Sunlight Press, Sparks of Calliope, and elsewhere.
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