The Calling

You were in the next room….

soft exhale.

Just before the call came from a number, not a name, SPAM?,

at 8:36 PM and twenty-three seconds, (central standard time)

year: covid plus one

A call from a long-ago ego, invisimese twin, abandoned by choice,

chirruping a private language – reliving past foibles and

exhuming banshees with reminders of promises unkept.

What of the space between those moments and memory and now?,

sharply defined like wanting in concrete, not fungible,

atoms tearing through our connective tissue like dust-storms

You were never notified,

until now, the chronicling of this call,

which is, of course, the only thing that endures.

Soft inhale.