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I have heard her voice

By R. Bremner

PROMPT — If only ...

I have heard her voice.

I heard it again, as I never

heard it in her lifetime.

I hear her voice at

the strangest times:

at work, during a conference all;

walking the dog on a bright sunny day;

listening to the news being broadcast.

And it is never an infant’s voice,

as I’d expect it to be.

No, it ages through the years.

And it always says the same thing.

Just one word.


There is no place to go to

where I can be nearer to her.

They trashed what little remains

there were of her

at the time of the miscarriage

before we knew

that was their standard operating


Business as usual.

And I know she is thinking

“why didn’t you save me?”

We meant to mark her birthday

give her a name

but all that’s forgotten now

long dead in the past.

But I’ve given her a name

that no one else knows

so that I can reply

when she calls to her Daddy.

And as she grows into womanhood

I’m so proud of my little girl.


R. Bremner writes of incense, peppermints, and the color of time in such venues as International Poetry Review, Anthem: a Leonard Cohen Tribute Anthology, Jerry Jazz Musician, Climate of Opinion: Sigmund Freud in Poetry, The Red Wheelbarrow, and seven books, including Hungry words (Alien Buddha Press), and Absurd (Cajun Mutt Press).


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