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 shouting the truth.


by Donal Mahoney

Email: donalmahoney@charter.net