Brendan McMahon
The Call
The call came from an immeasurable distance.
A small voice said, I want you, come to me.
I thought about it, as is my custom,
and did nothing, likewise.
Reflecting from the safe bank of the years,
and not wondering what might have happened,
the provenance still puzzles.
Was it the joke of a jester king,
some child trapped in the well of me,
a coward’s passing craziness? Maybe
I made it up.
Page(s) 106
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