Seven is the number of forgetting.

Seven is the number of forgetting.

I had to be there at seven, and the date

escaped me. At nine, when I slammed the trunk,

I remembered, tried driving fast enough to turn

back time. Didn’t work.

Tonight I was sure I needed to be there

     at seven.

Showed up 15 minutes early, to an empty,

dark house. No cars in the drive. Checked my

email from last week. Appointment was seven

…hours ago.  Seven.  The number of forgetting.