the phone call

she used to call me
every night before
she went to sleep. there
was nothing of great
importance to talk about,
work, the kids, the weather,
when we might be getting
together again.
but she wanted to hear
my voice and i wanted
to hear hers before
the day ended. her voice
was soft and whispery.
it was a sweet way to end
the night, before the lights
went out. it was a nice
way of showing affection.
and then one night she
didn't call, and then another
went by, and another.
the fourth night
i waited and waited,
i put my hand on the phone
almost ready to dial
her number, but didn't.
another night went by,
and then it became a week,
months passed and the phone
still didn't ring. finally,
late one night, after twelve,
i found her number on
a scrap of paper in the dresser.
and called her, it rang
a few times before a man
picked up, and i could hear
her voice, in a whisper, in bed
next to him, asking who
it was, who was calling at
this ungodly hour of the night.