Wooden Anniversary

She uncradles the phone with a lyric
for someone who might be calling
if I weren't calling again from work,

who would be calling, she says,
if five years ago I hadn't
promised her me.

Five years ago she believed me
and now she has children, four,
a house, my calls each noon.

Five years ago she lied to herself
as I napped on her parents' porch,
silent yet screaming the truth.

poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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