Looking for a piece of paper, there it was
I wanted to write my number for a friend
and there in plain sight after three years,
I saw the third thing you wrote to me

A birthday card was first, well-chosen, heartfelt
“books” on a bag with the book you bought me
and then this note, after all the stress I bore
thrown into my drawer, unseen, your abdication
of responsibility, authentic liar you that you are

Published in The Lark