Wrong Number

the phone rings at three a.m. .

I let it go five, six, seven times,

then pick it up on eight. 

it's the wrong number, again.

someone wants sylvia, 

they want her to come 

to the phone right now. 

every night it's the same thing.

I tell them she's in the shower, 

she's on the toilet, 

she's taking a bundt cake 

out of the oven, 

she's crocheting me a sweater.

I yell out her name in the hollow

darkness of my apartment,

sylvia, o sylvia. 

but she's always busy 

when they call,

I make sure of that.

she's making a good home

here for the both of us.

I want them to know that. 

it seems important.