On Borges’ death day

Into this labyrinth, let us recall
Not the Minotaur at the center
But  the blind poet’s death day,

Also my birth day dating back
To hard boiled toffees we had
Distributed when kids in class.

We can’t find when blind poet
Was born in  imagined library
That is also a Minos labyrinth,

As fourteen and more youths
Were sacrificed to  Minotaur
Before blindness set in library.

A reader had recent birthday
And may have many for sure
If you rise from  a blindness

And  not caught by Minotaur
To live memory of birthdays,
When kids made fun sounds

On birthday toffees you gave
As tongues touched the roofs
Of mouths knowing no mazes.


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