Allen Itz

calendars

calendars mark the passing
day on day
year on year
slipping by
time unnoticed
inobtrusive thief
slipping by
unnoticed

until one day
clarity
and the face in the mirror
seems a relic uncovered
like an old calendar
in a dusty attic
circled dates
opportunities
appointments
milestones of life and death

there, that one
circled in red
the president
assassinated
I was twenty
a second year student
away from home
hostage for days
to a black and white tv
in a black and white world

or that one,
christmas day,
ten years old,
my brother's old bike
painted shiny gold
mine now

or this one,
our wedding day
I was thirty-two
she ten years younger
new life
after years alone

so many days

this one,
I hold my son
for the first time,
or this one,

I see my father
for the last time
lying in a shining box
hands folded
in front
relief
from the suffering
of his ending days
brown suit coat
buttoned tight
flashing in my mind
the double breasted suit
he wore tightly buttoned
every sunday
for the first thirty years
of my life

calendars marked
with all the days
of my life
until now
at the end
of this year
a new calendar waits
unmarked
no days held
in special regard
no appointments
opportunities unexpected
milestones
good and bad
unknown