my mother's news report

i miss my mother's news

broadcasts.

her

whisper

into the phone,

hand cupped around

the receiver,

asking

me to promise

that i'd never

tell a soul what she was about

to tell me.

cross my heart i'd

say, then listen.

an hour later a sister

would call,

then a brother,

and each would 

tell me 

the same exact story,

the juicy bit

of gossip that

everyone had been told.