Supergirl

The phone rings at 6 a.m.
the alarm was set for 7.
She reaches for it, of course.

Her friend, Christine, has been up all night crying
but waited until 6 to make the call.
Monday night the call came at 2 a.m.

There's nothing she can do-
they've been through this before-
a different boy, a different lie, the same Christine.

She holds the phone lightly as it may slip.
Bit it won't-ever.
The very least she can do is listen.

Call over, things resolved for now.
She's almost late for work.
Refreshing shower, clean dress, high-heeled boots, and matching handbag,
she looks completely put together and in control.

What will happen today?
Will mother's messages announce she's having another one of those days?
Will office drama be spilling over cubicle walls?
Will the fast-food joint clerk offer an all-too-honest response to "how are you?"

Almost out the door, she catches a glimpse of a cape
folded neatly on the chair, like always,
waiting for her to take hold of it and throw it over her shoulders.
Maybe today she won't grab it-
maybe today it will be about her and only her.
Or maybe she'll grab it but shove it
into her color-coordinated handbag
and wait until noon before actually putting it on.