My call Stopped him Saved her, maybe She always went back To the living room The noise The man she loved. I had my water. I would be OK. Everything is OK, She would say, And I would lose all sense Of time Amid lies. She loved me And tried to hold it together. That was the best she could do. He yelled and slammed and hovered Until she said those magic words: I’m sorry. And then silence came And I would listen for two sets of footsteps, Retreating voices Remembering the children are asleep, Bathroom noises, box-spring noises-- Clues she was alive. In the morning She would say I love you, honey, As he left for work. I would know then: she survived. I lived it again: The pain the fear The loud noise yelling Mom, I call. Come to me! She comes And I imagine her A skeleton, the walking dead A tattered life. I am three, I know cartoons And TV shows with magic and witchcraft: A tattered life I can imagine. I need a drink of water. Stripped of life, My mother responds to my call. As I stop the