It’s Possible My Number Once Belonged to Your Deceased Loved One
by Peggy Hammond
November 2021
When he set the record,
six calls in a day, I blocked him.
I answered once, annoyed
by his unfailing frequency,
snapped my syllables
who are you trying to reach?
brisk, just like my mother
popped bedsheets into shape
on a backyard clothesline.
But he didn’t answer,
defaulted to his question
how’s the weather there?
I don’t know you!
The words jumped from
the tip of my tongue,
fell into the fragile space
between us. And now
I’ve blocked him but I
still peek to see the calls
rack up on my recent list,
wonder and worry he’s alone,
dialing while disconnected
from reality or maybe he’s
too sad, too stricken to admit
his friend or wife, son or daughter
was called to cross Jordan, left him
far behind, dreaming, dialing,
hoping to hear their voice once more.
How’s the weather there? he’d say,
and his beloved would sigh,
contented, and comfort him,
It’s beautiful here.
Peggy Hammond’s recent poems appear or are forthcoming in Pangyrus Literary Magazine, The Comstock Review, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, For Women Who Roar, Fragmented Voices, Scissortail Quarterly, The Sandy River Review, Moonstone Arts Center’s anthology, Protest 2021, and elsewhere. She is a Best of the Net nominee, and her chapbook, The Fifth House Tilts, is due out in the fall of 2022 (Kelsay Books).