*67

by Sarah Kersey

---

Before I knew my mother used to be a switchboard operator,
none of my father’s cords could strangle her.

She unhooked them from the board.
God was with her.

Before I knew what a switchboard was,
God made sure my father heard from me.

We were connected through *67.
Unknown to Dad, his phone rang: Anonymous.

He ran away from the reminders of us,
so I tricked him into remembering me.

My mother showed me how.
I sprinkled myself  in *67’s cosmic dust each time I phoned him.

During my final conversation with my father, 
he called me a blank slate.

If that is true, there must not be stars on cloudy nights.

---

Sarah Kersey is a poet and x-ray technologist from New Jersey. She is an Assistant Features Editor for The Rumpus. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in The Rumpus, Mumber Magazine, The Hellebore, Columbia Journal (online), and elsewhere. She tweets @sk__poet.