An excerpt from

Calling Home
by Richard Sanger

From Love Lessons

You wake. The sheets are warm. If she’s gone,
She’s just gone into some far room

To attend to something the night together
Brought to mind, to write perhaps a letter
Or call someone... Splash! There are many mansions

In this house, and alcoves, and plaster busts
And old piano keys collecting dust
And down some dark hallway there is a bath

Where an arm rises and water falls (splash),
Falling into the tub, the tide ebbing,
Undressing a torso blemish by blemish,

Starfish, seaweed, foam, the woman you pictured
Rising into the cold, dry air, risen and there,
Until, oh, she relents and sinks again
And this you hear, you don’t imagine: “Richard.”