NaPoWriMo: Caller ID, She Would (Probably) Have Dusted, Kei Miller

NaPoWriMo was a lot of fun. Here are a couple of my favourites from days 10-20.

Caller ID

She called me just before
she got on a boat, hi baby
it’s me, to tell me she was
getting on said boat and
might not have signal and

she loved me. Mostly asleep,
I thought it impolitic to interrupt
the moment to say I didn’t
have her number saved
or any idea who she was.

I can hold whole conversations
without waking. She called
me baby; for two minutes
I assumed she was Sally
drunk and with a new number.

Not-Sally was sorry for waking me.
She’d call when she got there.
(Where?) She loved me.
She loved me. I – love you too,
baby. Be safe for me, ok?

It seemed rude to not
love her. I wanted her safety.
She’d call me. She had to
go. Back to sleep now,
baby. She never called back.

When I tried I got a staticky
answerphone. Her name
was Tish, or maybe Trish.
I left a message. I couldn’t
tell you what it said.

She Would (Probably) Have Dusted

There are still wrappers
on both boxes of herbal tea.
She does own normal tea
but she’s got no milk in.

She doesn’t really
drink milk and it’s not
as though her ankle joints
were expecting anyone before
spring when everything eases and
she regains hospitality as long as her
hayfever doesn’t play up. Her visitor offers
to come back in spring. He could bring his own
milk, even, so as not to put her out? She says it’s fine –

I’ll open one of these. We can find out what echinacea tastes like
together. Haven’t you always wanted to know?

Kei Miller

Dad is reading Kei Miller.
            There is an alternate universe-me 
                        who did ballet instead of eating 
                                    and got really good at it.
Dad is reading Kei Miller because I told him to.
            There is an alternate-universe me 
                        who finished her physics degree, 
                                    did Teach First and got
                                                a job on a trading floor.
Dad is recommending Kei Miller to his friends. 
            Dancer-me has lush abs. 
                        No tattoos. Her girlfriend never 
                                    watches her perform. 
            Banker-me recommends dominatrices 
                        to her colleagues. Never discusses
                                    politics. Owns many 
                                                beautiful shoes.
This is the guy I was talking about yesterday. 
            They both read obsessively 
                        but neither of them 
                                    write all that much. 
The Cartographer - Anna recommended it.
            I reckon the three of us are roughly equally
                        happy, and roughly equally horrified
                                    at the thought of the other two
            but I’m the one you’re reading 
                        so what I say goes.
It’s a very beautiful book.
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