CALL AGAIN

You called again this morning, and,
as usual, long before I was awake.
You left no message, but you never do,
and I do wish you’d stay in one place

just for a while, it would make finding
you to speak with you much easier.
This morning you were in Azerbaijan,
and last week you called from Belarus.

Later today you called from New York
and this time actually left a message,
but, of course, you left it in Mandarin
despite my repeated requests you not do so.

I’m sure you will call again tomorrow,
or if not, the next day, and I’ll be interested
in knowing where you are, but to save you time,
please rest assured that I will not be able

to help you recover that vast sum of money,
or send you, the cousin I’ve never heard of, the funds
you need to get out of jail or the hospital,
but feel free to call anyway and, do have a nice day

PLEASE CONTINUE TO HOLD

 

The thing I don’t get, he said,
is why whenever I put in a call
to heaven a male voice answers,
and says he will transfer me.
Usually the wait time is too long
but occasionally a woman will answer
and tell me the Queen
of Queens, blessed is she, is busy
but she knows my wishes and those
with enough merit will
be granted in due course.
She does, always, thank me for calling.

FROM BEYOND

“Call your mother,” she says. She speaks in the voice of my mother. It grates on my nerves in just the same way it always did. I listen carefully. She repeats herself.  I reminded her that she died two years ago. I tell her I tried to call for months after her passing, but there was never an answer. I tell her it is clear that she no longer accepts calls. She asks, “why should that matter?  Call your mother,” she repeats, “it doesn’t matter if she answers, and anyway you never called when I was alive.” This I know to be unfair, untrue. I know she is pushing buttons, a skill she had long mastered. I speak in my defense, “I called at least once a week or more. Back then. Don’t argue with the dead,” she says, “and whatever else you do, don’t argue with your mother.”