The last voicemail I received

          came three days before my father died:


          “Hello son, could you please

          call me back, your mother’s been

          trying to get a hold of you.



          I should probably erase it,

          instead of having to be reminded

          that it needs to be resaved

          every twenty-one days.  


          I was teaching a class

          when he called,

          and didn’t hear his message

          until shortly after. 


          I don’t remember much else about that night.

          I don’t remember any discussions with students,

          or what I listened to as I drove home,

          or any other calls or texts I might have received.

          I don’t remember anything except

          a total lunar eclipse had made the moon disappear

          and I never did call him back. 





                                                                                              Clint Margrave