Answering the phone, I create and push memories backwards through time

In the golden morning sun
i am reminded of the ghost
of a young asian woman
whose name I don’t know.

i think of her while reading
poems of william carlos williams,
and while making cake
with my daughter, kadie

i see her from the corner
of my eye, when an eyelash
flickers near the duct,
stinging, causing a salty tear

and i can hear her sigh as
i awake to the ringing of the phone
“Hello ?” I answer, only half awake,
but there’s no one on the other end