Let Me Go. Poem by anasuya balla

my calendar shows only
dangerous hours kept:
(we charge by the hour you see)

the odd birthday silently
lost between blanks
of a little kept memory.

sometimes i break an
extra hour for lunch
but friends who called have forgotten my face

i try to make up
by writing them random notes
but they see honesty false couched in wordy lace

perhaps-
like my Sagittarian muse
tells me slow
if you wont leave this office
do let me go.