You were

about to fall asleep
when your phone rang,
vibrated, or otherwise
sang out a song.
My photo lit
your pale tired eyes
like a thief’s tiny candle
bouncing off two silver coins
at the bottom of a wishing well
where I once prayed,
begged, or otherwise
negotiated the gods
a wish regarding you.
It never came true,
but there is still time
to spend, steal, and cheat
like the dollars and cents
saved in pockets of coats
worn seven seasons ago.
You answered the phone,
sounded happy I called,
although you had to go
back to the bottom
of a sleepless dream
under crocheted covers
and the tick tock of a clock.
You stole it from her room
after she had gone.
You didn’t think anyone else
should have her prize.
She won it when she was eleven;
The same age you were
once for a year.

written on 06/02/2011 by: Matt Kane