EMPTY BOXES By Leigh Fisher


Save the date. Mark it on a calendar
and write it in a bold color so that it stands out.
Forgetting would be a disservice,
but with it written on the wall, it’s harder to forget.

Save the date. Open up an app,
put the information where it belongs.
Set an alarm to make sure there’s an alert
Just in the nick of time
but see that the AM and PM are in the right places.
Switching things around only wreaks havoc
either twelve hours before, when all is silent
or after, when it’s all much too late

Save the date. Remember this time you spent together,
for such time is ephemeral
There’s such distance in online profiles
Speaking short excerpts of speech
To no one in particular

Save the date. Try to salvage the time with this person;
it feels futile, but there’s still a chance
A faint probability that you’ll walk beside them again
Laugh and confide, staying close as a bee to a flower

Save the date, before you’re replaced
By other plans ravenously consuming hours of the day
Or other people cutting in front of you
Grabbing their hand and dancing away
While you stand there alone with a planner
And a pen that just ran out of ink

By Leigh Fisher


Leigh Fisher is from New Jersey and works as a help desk technician by day, but she is a writer around the clock. She is tackling graduate school applications, eager to study literature. She has been published or is forthcoming in Five 2 One Magazine, The Missing Slate, Referential Magazine, Seascape Literary Journal, and Stockpot.

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