it’s past eleven
and the telephone rings,
as i lift the receiver
no one answers.
my voice searches the static
like a hand
reaching in darkness,
searching for assurance
that i am not alone
but there’s only silence,
and the line goes dead.
i get the feeling someone is trying to reach me.
the phone rings again,
and no one answers.
i lift the receiver,
but only the dead can hear.
Author notes
Written June 23rd, 2006
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Comments
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This is a nice little eerie poem. There is this impending doom that seems to hover over it. It reminds me just a little of Muriel Spark's novel, "Mememto Mori" Where a voice would be on the other end of the phone speaking those words, which roughly translated mean, "Remember that we will one day die."
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love the reach into the static
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I really like this poem. I like the mystery you've add to this. Great write!
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i absolutely love this poem..it is so beautiful. and i love the whole subject of the poem, it reminds me of this one episode of the twilight zone..this woman's husband keeps calling her from the grave. anyways, it's a gorgeous poem, i love the form you used and it just all flowed so beautifully.
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