PROSE POETRY
ANDREW ALEXANDER MOBBS
ANDREW ALEXANDER MOBBS
WITCHING HOUR
The mist-thick January darkness bisected by a single phone call. One ring—Pavlovian, she’d wake up half-dreaming, reach for the receiver, listen to the familiar muffled breath and hang up, comforted. Outside, the wistful gaze of moonlight, the metallic leaves of sycamore. Something is lost when both lovers are asleep, when one can’t report to the other how the soughing wind shatters the stillness with a force that tears sound. Listen to the ghosts chant dirges for the living.
Tell me being a creature of the night isn’t magic. Tell me you’ll be there when I wake up.
The mist-thick January darkness bisected by a single phone call. One ring—Pavlovian, she’d wake up half-dreaming, reach for the receiver, listen to the familiar muffled breath and hang up, comforted. Outside, the wistful gaze of moonlight, the metallic leaves of sycamore. Something is lost when both lovers are asleep, when one can’t report to the other how the soughing wind shatters the stillness with a force that tears sound. Listen to the ghosts chant dirges for the living.
Tell me being a creature of the night isn’t magic. Tell me you’ll be there when I wake up.
Andrew Alexander Mobbs is the author of the chapbook, Strangers and Pilgrims (Six Gallery Press, 2013). He was a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee, and his poems have appeared in The Round, Frontier Poetry, Southwestern American Literature, Appalachian Heritage, and elsewhere. Finally, he co-founded the online literary journal, Nude Bruce Review.