
I’d like to have him delivered for my birthday! All he needs is to be wrapped in a bow (or not).

I’d like to have him delivered for my birthday! All he needs is to be wrapped in a bow (or not).

On this day forty-six years ago, a scrawny, bald headed, and very pink baby boy was brought screaming into this world. I say screaming because apparently, I began crying shortly after I was born and that continued for the next year or so with little relief for my parents. It’s been suggested that I had migraines even back then, but I’m not going to think about that today. Today is a day of celebration. 🎉
My birthday hasn’t been a big event for me in years for a number of reasons, and these days, I’m just happy to still be alive on this earth. I have to go to work this morning (I usually take my birthday off, as is a tradition with people at my museum), but I have a class to teach this morning, so I’m working until noon and then heading home. I’m also taking tomorrow as a vacation day.
Other than possibly going to dinner with a friend tomorrow night, I probably won’t do anything special. Besides, I doubt anything will ever top my forty-second birthday in 2019. That year, I spent several days in Manhattan visiting my friend Susan. We had Thanksgiving dinner together, and for my birthday, she took me to see Chicago (a personal favorite of mine) on Broadway. It was no doubt the most special birthday I’ve ever had.
That same trip, I got to see and actually go inside the famous/historic Stonewall Inn. 🏳️🌈 This photo is one of my favorites not only because Joe Coffee is on Gay Street, but Gay Street also crosses Christopher Street, where the Stonewall Inn is.

What has been your favorite birthday memory?

Yesterday, I asked my students how their Thanksgivings had been. One student told me she’d gone to Destin, Florida, which is one of my favorite beaches in Florida. Considering the fact that it’s 15 degrees F here in Vermont, and it’s 46 degrees in Destin, I wish I was at the beach today. I always loved the beach in cooler weather. It wasn’t so hot that the sugar white sands would burn your feet, it usually wasn’t crowded, and the waters were still their beautiful emerald green (Destin is part of an area known as Emerald Beach for a reason). Alas, all I get in Vermont is white snow, not white sands. Granted, with the current state of politics in Florida, I wouldn’t go there anyway, but maybe the beautiful beaches of the Mexican Riviera. There, it would even be warm. One can dream.

The Last Orgasm
By Tobias Wray
Stars and people and daffodils won’t last forever.
Hands down, forever will succumb to a single sensation,
one last heaven, one last shudder
lost voice carried over the winds of the body, the canyons
of the hands in a shower, snow or warm? Last ashes
of satisfaction dance above an open mouth, teeth like light
in an emptied room, the wet music of the tongue.
Somebody will find the edge to all of humanity’s joy, a flood,
a punctuation will flood her with its certainty,
or them, or us, all at once, and that lonely breach
will ripple through, on and out, with indefatigable atoms.
Those asking hands never to slow their speeding ship
one last starry daffodil excess will blow its soft dunes,
that lost voice, back, over everything that ever came
before. Until emptied out. And if you slow, if you slowly reach
across your own body until you feel it, too, even now?
You can come to an end, even now. It lasts, wanting to.
About this Poem
“I often wonder about pleasure and how we talk about it, and about what happens in the silences beyond that is more alluring still. Those things are marked by the limits of our imagination, which it is the work of poetry to understand and expand. I wrote ‘The Last Orgasm’ in the spillover energy from a prose project on the sublime. In some ways, this poem serves as a meditation on the sublime edge between what we can witness and what we cannot bear to. It is also simply a love poem.”—Tobias Wray
About the Poet
Tobias Wray is a writer, teacher, and arts organizer.
Poems, reviews, and other writing appear widely in literary journals, including on Verse Daily, Poem-a-Day, Impossible Archetype, The Arkansas International, Hunger Mountain, and The Georgia Review. His work has also been anthologized in Queer Nature: A Poetry Anthology (Autumn House Press) and elsewhere.
An assistant professor at the University of Central Oklahoma where he directs UCO’s Creative Writing Programs, his interests range from experimental poetics to queer and speculative literatures to literary translation. He served as director of undergraduate and graduate creative writing programs at the University of Idaho until 2021. He was a poetry editor for Cream City Review and, until 2017, helped to coordinate Eat Local :: Read Local, a program that partners restaurants with poets from Milwaukee and Madison, Wisconsin.
He is a 2023 National Endowment for the Arts Fellow.

Today is the last day of my weeklong respite from work. I’ll have to go in tomorrow, but I’m off today because I have a dermatology appointment. I’m glad I have today off, but I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere. We received what looks like 6” of snow last night. Thankfully, it’s not the 9” predicted. As is usually the case in many things, 6” is much easier to take than 9”. Hopefully, the snow will get plowed soon, so it won’t be too difficult to travel.

You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book.
— Psalm 56:8
I had a really bad migraine yesterday. As you know, having a migraine is not an uncommon occurrence for me. In fact, I’ve had one all week. I’ve been having migraine headaches all of my life (literally). Sometimes the pain is mild, sometimes severe. Yesterday’s migraine was a severe one. I have three medicines, Anaprox (550 mg naproxen), Amerge (naratriptan), and Vistaril (Hydroxyzine), that I can take all at once that usually will knock out the headache, but it also knocks me out of commission for at least 24 hours (my former neurologist said they did the same to her), so, I rarely take them in combination even though that’s how they are prescribed. I slept until 7 am this morning, which is why this post is being put up so late. I’m amazed Isabella let me sleep in this long. She tried to wake me, but she seemed to know when I was sick, and it was going to be a losing battle for her.
Thankfully, I was able to get out of bed in the morning with only a shadow migraine and without the nausea that often accompanies my worst headaches. Since it’s Sunday, I figured I’d see what the Bible says about migraines. I found some Psalms that offer a little guidance, though I do not believe anyone in biblical times understood migraines (see Hildegard of Bingen for a possible medieval view of migraines). They were probably thought to be demons within a person.
(Today, I will use a translation of the Bible called The Message, which is a translation of the Bible in contemporary English by Eugene H. Peterson. It can be quite a wonderful translation for understanding the Bible.)
Psalm 56 is David’s psalm asking God for deliverance from his enemies and his declaration of confidence that God will act to bring that deliverance. If you think of a migraine as a battle, this Psalm applies, and migraines are an intense battle. Psalm 56:8 says, “You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book.” Yesterday, I hadn’t been running from enemies seeking to take my life as was David, nor was I lying awake crying out to God for deliverance from oppression or violence. But I was lying awake for quite a while last night trying to fall asleep, as I have many times before, asking God to bring deliverance from these headaches and sickness. Psalm 56:8 is one that can speak to someone with migraines. Every toss and turn I’ve made all these years, every sleepless night, every tear I’ve shed, every agonizing plea for God to heal and deliver; every headache, stomachache, nerve ache, and body ache—God knows, and God cares.
Think about this: God keeps track of our sufferings because it matters to him. He knows everything we’re going through and how it specifically and intimately affects us. Every physical, emotional, and spiritual misery we feel is laid out before him. He knows, and he cares. David knew this to be true. That’s why he can declare in verse 9 that “this I know, that God is for me.” Later in verse 11, he sings, “in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.”
The pain and misery I feel with my migraines may try to convince me that God has forsaken me. The pain and misery we feel may try to deceive us into thinking that we cannot always depend on God, but we cannot give in to those lies. God is always present, always aware, and always cares for what his people are going through. Because this is true of God, I can trust him as I continue to pray for healing. I can hold firm to his promise that he is for me and will bring me deliverance from the pain (whether physical, emotional, or spiritual) in my life. He will answer my plea. It may be today or next Tuesday or the day I stand before Him in heaven, but deliverance is coming—physical, emotional, and spiritual. So, when you find yourself tossing and turning, turn to God. When your tears flow, let Him collect them. When your aches become more than you can bear, cry out to God, who listens, cares, and answers. I have often done this, especially with the worst of my migraines, and while it may take strong medicines to give me relief, I know that, ultimately, that relief is because of God.