You had me at hello:
restrained years
fill a glass with tap water
tiredness, my urge to
mouth your name,
a priori pick up the phone
casually hear your voice,
your retrained received English,
sharp chiding German angles,
your I-should-have-known
retained allegory.
I order the cheese you didn’t eat.
I sit where you sat,
a three-dot promise of reply,
a turn-down service
chocolate on a crisp-ironed
cotton pillow case.
I flick the phone on,
an American at the end of the bar
watches the dim screen light
fade to no call,
protected, retained.
I revisit unknown
salt-drowned oak paneled
Newtown bars
the slow face before me,
the pop of a cork
in the corner mask a
Hullo you won’t hear.