"it's really not the doorbell"

Your e-mails from before
that I never saw
that you swear you sent then
come haunting my in-box

they drift up, one after the other
arriving like guests
arriving like ghosts
who could not make it on the night of,
- though they were expected,
though they promised, and
confirmed -

they could not even put in an appearance.

but they are so prompt now
and every year after,

on the anniversary of the party