Ver-Sails

I was eight years old
when my father called last.

In my mother’s room
she set me to the task:

“On the phone, say ‘Hi’
to your father once more.

I’ll leave you alone
from just outside the door.”

In my unsure hands
the receiver I took.

As out walked my mom
with a sad, painful look.

Twenty-two years on,
our words are lost to time.

Yet I remember
hanging up—feeling fine.