Brian Fuller
You Will Not Be Missed
San Simon, AZ, October 2020\
he pulled back the curtain an inch
to see who was at the door
i laughed a little without smiling because
honestly, who else could it possibly be?
his ways were exhausting sometimes
and today already felt like
it was going to be one of those
he asked me in and i nearly declined
i’d had his coffee before
it was not good
the interior was dark and cluttered
not unlike my own
and i thought for a moment
that maybe that was the thing we had in common
and then i worried i was looking into my future
and i hoped i wasn’t
i had other plans, didn’t i?
suddenly i wasn’t so sure
the silence gathered with us as we sat
it was always the third party at the table
whenever i came by
as if everything unsaid pulled together
into a single shadow so huge and black
that it loomed over everything else
and silenced all the rest—
and it felt like it was growing
i thanked my father for the coffee
still cooling in my cup
and rose to leave
he gave me a smile and gestured with his own,
waving me on my way
i knew that i would not be missed
but, also, that he wouldn’t either
©2020 West Trade Review
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