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Calendar This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Sometimes I thank God for the days I
cannot remember.
What a strange thing, to look upon a
calendar and see
a soft blankness, a bout of nothingness,
a watercolor stroke
over blocks of endless days, days that
collapse plaintively
onto one another, rigid skylines folded into the peach pit dawn.
What a strange thing indeed, to feel no
attachment to
the number 8 on the wall, or the 14, or even
the small 29, staring at me with baleful eyes.
Sometimes the five lights up when I look
at her, and
the 12 hunches her shoulders when
my eyes brush
past, ensconcing her in the grayest marble.
What a strange thing, to forget leaps and bounds of time,
but isn't it stranger that my mind does not try to recall them?

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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