Reading a Coworker's Obituary by Corey D. Cook

She answered the phone
for six months or so
before being asked to leave,
she answered the phone breathlessly,
always breathlessly,
& tried to direct calls,
tried to take messages.

She left patients on hold
far too long
& unknowingly hung up
on others.

She left messages on your desk
& the caller’s name
would be spelled wrong,
or the phone number
would be missing a digit,
or the piece of paper
would have Coke stains on it.

She spoke of her dog,
her dog that slept in bed with her,
snarled at the maintenance man.

She died in her apartment
& you know her dog nudged her,
howled at the door
& she would have dutifully responded,
if only she could.



First published in ugly cousin



Corey D. Cook works at a hospital in New Hampshire and lives in Vermont. He edits Red Eft Review.