i found your voicemail living in the sink

face down in a bowl of cold dishwater

still blinking like it wanted out

don’t tell me you forgot to answer it.

it’s been pacing in there all afternoon,

trying on voices like tutus on a hobo.

i picked it up and it slipped a bit—

said my name wrong, then said it better,

then said it the way ma used to say it when I was

just an egg inside her.

you always let things ring themselves thin.

let them wilt on the line

until they start beefing up in the moonlight.

this one’s grown legs.

left damp prints across the counter.

opened the fridge and stood there hum-

hum-humming.

i’m not answering it for you.

no way—i don’t like how it looks at me

poison eyes remembering something i haven’t even done yet.

it keeps dialing out on its own now.

keeps asking for people who haven’t been born.

come deal with it.

come.

it’s starting to sound like you.