After talking with my sister long distance
about her chemotherapy

     by Bob McHeffey

I remember now

the rhythm of watching phone lines

on long stretches of road—

the dip of the wires

falling to the middle of my window

and then rising up

to meet the poles

and then

the dip of the wires again.

They kept a constant pace,

hypnotic and soothing,

until we slowed for a turnoff.

As our speed dropped

the wires fell more slowly

and struggled to rise back up.

I always turned away then

before the wires became a line

that did not fall nor rise

and leaned into my sister

to prove, with our touch,

that I was still alive.

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Bob McHeffey teaches high school English in suburban Southern California. He coaches girls basketball. He juggles moderately well. And most of his poems get workshopped through his high school creative writing classes so they can get practice in looking objectively at the craft of writing. His poems have been published in The Comstock Review, Cider Press Review, and Chantarelle’s Notebook, among others.

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© 2011 Bob McHeffey