— Casey FitzSimons
It was there, a letter from Agnes
to your office address.
I didn’t need to read it to know
she was pleading with you
or that you had pleaded with her.
I didn’t need to let it rest there
undisturbed and close the drawer
for you to regret letting me wait
in your swivel-chair until time
to drive to my appointment.
I only needed to seem to believe
whatever you finally said
and wonder whether the dentist
could see the lump in my throat
under his brilliant light.