Arrears

The coaster has a coffee ring

and numbers scrawled in faded blue.

I can’t recall the specific thing

or exactly what I owe to you.

The pen had died before the end.

I pressed the plastic to the grain.

A jagged line that wouldn't bend,

a silent record of the strain.

My thumb is stained with ancient ink.

The phone is vibrating again.

I stand beside the kitchen sink

and wonder how the time was spent.