i can still hear
my mother's voice on the phone.
that Wednesday
call.
that guilt. why, she says, haven't
you come over
lately.
come sunday, i'm making stew.
i know like stew.
bread, salad. i made a cake.
it's no
occasion, just
visit.
what time, i ask her.
five she says, but one is okay too.
bring nothing,
just you.
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