Just Call

Here is a poem inspired by the ever-inspiring Bea:

Just Call

I have a new number,
but I don’t know what it is.
Just call me on the Ouija board,
she says.
I pull out the box
dusty     dusty     dusty

We were teenagers calling spirits
Whom will I marry?
As if they had time for that,
What is your name?
What is your birthdate?
We pretended it made sense
pretended we weren’t pushing
past the breaking point of maybe
to the solid heartbreak of No
or even Yes.

Bored, we put away the board,
and we grew up.
I called my spirit into life
the breathing forest
a pulsing promise       motherhood.
She called spirits down
into glass and drank and drank
and floated up the river to Any Street
and city lights.

Of course, we both know poets lie
in that kind way
we can call it Art.
I always touched the Ouija board alone
When will he come?  He?  She?
More to the truth of it

Now I’m calling you
Do you hear me?
Can you hear me?
Am I getting through?

© 2015 by Robin A. Sams


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