at thirty i celebrated –
a birthday of fitting in
a professional career for her
and for me, a place to begin

hill,
makes these legs hurt
up it
up it
trying to reach a top

how could i –
with a childhood –
of wheat and rye
not try my best

maybe the chip on my shoulder
is making me turn out wrong
always justifying,
because i have never had –
the guile, the belief,

where did this anxiety come from
did it walk in –
as they slipped out
what happened to younger days
when it was fine to scream and shout

they are the things we put there
when the cat struggles with the hill
when we have a life
and suddenly we cannot afford the bill

i was unsecured
from my fixing point
let loose
when i should have come home
and cooked my goose