Appeal to Change

Guess what! I won 'honorable mention' for this piece in

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and got 2500 GPs! Thank you so much, gailey !!! This is such an honor!

The ring of the telephone,
         heard muffled,
         under the covers
         of hopeful lovers.


"Hello?"
         groggily answering,
         lump still in his throat,
         clogs his voice.

"Hi! How are ya'?
Gosh, it's a beautiful day,
         the blue of the sky,
         the shimmering shine of the sun!"


Wanting:
         to hang up;
         bask in the sweet smell,
         silk and sweat mingling
         among long, flowing locks
         of her hair; yet...
Curious:
         who is he?
         melodious voice of ambition
         on the other side of--
         what?
         a dream?


"I know. Still early, but
         I'm callin' 'bout
         the change."
         strange voice lingers in his ears...

"What change?"
         crumpled sheets at the foot of the bed
         are at once
         changed,
         as they slide
         over long snake-like legs
         and come to rest
         right below her navel.


Oh!
Why this interruption?!
         this change
         in routine
         of two lovers
         under covers.


"Yeah. The change.
Still early,
but it's comin' soon.
I can feel it.
         Just look outside,
         open your eyes;
         it's comin',
         so fast it'll make yer head spin!"


All he wants:
         to cradle her in his arms,
         the peach fuzz
         on her
         soft, round belly
         prickling up
         to hear the hum of his
         hopeful breath.
Then:
         his eyes wide--
         this feeling inside--


"Can't ya' see it changin'?"

"Shut up!
No!
Don't make me!
Stop it from happening!
I don't want to remember!"
         frantically forming words
         he can barely say aloud.

"Well, I can't help ya' there,
         but it's all in yer head anyway.
         Just take a peek!"


At once:
         eyes open--


"Remember?"
         strange thoughts
         mingling in his mind--


Looking over:
         he reaches for the photo
         atop the rickety, old nightstand.
         It's feet rock
         as he lifts its
         heavy load.
Tears:
         uncontrollable,
         flow from frowning eyes,
         like waterfalls,
         they rain upon the glass.

She was so lovely:
         red and golden,
         shining, flowing locks,
         tumbling upon sunkissed shoulders;
         the rise and fall
         of bosom and belly,
         rhythmically
         dancing with the wind
         under the sundress
         on that
         beautiful Spring day.
It's okay:
         she's in a better place
         now.
The thoughts rumble low in his mind.

He turns over:
         no more lover
         under cover.
         Just a big empty
         bed,
         all in his head.


"I really gotta go,"
         he stutters,
         desperately trying to form
         words,
         now clear in his mind,
"There's a funeral, you know."

"Oh. Alright.
         Just don't forget,
         keep lookin' out.
         The change.
         It's comin'!"