Tonight's Poet Corner: Missed Call

Missed Call
by Belinda Roddie

You lit up my phone at eleven
when I had passed out at a quarter
to seven. I was nervous about
answering, so I just let it ring.
The tone sounded familiar, even
after so many years
of never hearing that little tinny
jingle in my left ear
(I sleep on my right side, so that's
where it hit me the most).

I woke up to no voicemail - just,
"Missed Call." And for a moment,
I had wondered if you had actually
called at all. Maybe I was just hallucinating
that you were staring at that tiny
screen, just waiting for me to call back
as you probably chowed down on your
cocktail shrimp and she drained
you of all your champagne.

No bubbly tonight, thanks. And I'm
not going to take your bait. Five years
it's been since we had our first date.
Two years since it ended, like curtains
were set on fire when they should
have just quietly descended. Honey
tea and watching the Spelling Bee
like an old married couple - those days
had been scorched away. Like
setting a blowtorch on photographs
of late night movies and shared
bubble baths and stupid conversations
and recitations of poems
that we didn't even care about
or really know.

So I ignored your call, and I
finally deleted your name from my phone
like taking an old picture out of a frame.
Only the next night, at around the same
time, you called again. And again, I wondered
if you had just blundered. Or if you
had decided to become a telemarketer -
in which case, no solicitors, please.