First home from school
            and then

            Unknown Caller

flashes across the cordless's face,
gyrating in its stand.

                        The phone rings.

                        The phone rings.

                        The phone rings.

                        The phone rings.

            The phone—


                        I think to dial out on my cell,
                                                a brand new Motorola RAZR,
                                    and give a parental alert

            but realize before reaching
                                    into my pocket
                        it's probably not important.  

Nothing that happens every day
            can be that important,

                        is that important
                                                to interrupt
            a woman named God

 


            or Not Home, I mean,
as I was commanded to say
            after that one time I answered a calling
                        like a prophet of bad news.