That Night the Phone Rang

Loren Niemi

It was after 2 AM

And as no phone call at that hour Is good news, this one did not pretend To be any different.

With dreams fled, what slumber Might return was replaced by the sound of My first wife’s weeping that her lover was dead. As often as I had wished that,

I did not ask how, the broken sobs Were prophecy enough. What I did Ask was where she was and if She needed me to retrieve her.

Such was the end of our marriage That her reason to leave was gone And the one who was left could Not return to an unhappy safety.

I would never hold her again Without wondering if it Was me she saw or a ghost At the foot of the bed.

White wine and daisies garnish my daydreams; Glass clear as crystal, Mind in a foggy embrace, Sleep a patient friend.

Sunlight pillars frame the lazy heat of awakening; Truffles and coconut sweeten the bitter tang of a morning start.

Find clouds in a sip and freedom in a memory; Rose gold nights, Steps like piano strings until the music fades.

Art a living purpose, It is the frame and we are the paint; The pictures we leave are stained with colors of the night.

The limits of time and space lost in the night sky and a sunset waltz; Cast away all limits for a fading into the sound.