Poetry of Issue #7        Page 51

Wednesday, Nov. 1: Dia de los Muertos

the last thing i heard pedro say
in dim light from his bronx bed was
i'll call you

the last thing i heard steve c. say
over the phone was i'm in pain--
call me tomorrow

the last thing i heard dalachinsky say
in the garden was i'm gonna listen
to the music

i don't remember the last thing my mother or father said.
the last thing noah says over my cell is i just wanted
to hear your voice

11/1/19: 3:31 pm

  eve packer