Can't accept death


Ghosts in the telephone

There are ghosts in the telephone
She says
Holding the receiver
Like a tiny baby fist
Holding on for life and death
Using the last strength left

There are ghosts in the telephone
She assures me

I can hear he's still here
Repeating a few words on air
Repeating
Late at night he's the loudest
Drowning all other sounds out
He sits beside me in the night

There are ghosts in the telephone
She says

As she unveils herself in front of me
In great racking sobs
Her eyes misty as though in fog
As only a mother could

There are ghosts in the telephone
She cries

He's still here
Listen listen
Beep,beep,beep



Poetry by little-known
Read 522 times
Written on 2013-12-21 at 16:47

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