The Last Time
I saw you was yesterday. The calendar
does not lie. It keeps our appointments
below the date, blocks of time waiting
to be filled. I see them wall my days,
the scheduled visits in pencil,
the doctor’s office in pen.
Your name is permanent
marker, written in ink so dark
a month cannot bury you
even when it’s passed.
Geoff Anderson crosses the tracks, the bridge, the overpass in Columbus, OH. His work appears or is forthcoming in Outlook Springs, Lunch Ticket, and UpTheStaircaseQuarterly, among others.