Dialling Tone


We were always shouting down telephones
from separate rooms. I press my nose
to the mouthpiece, draw out the stale breath
of small talk. Wait for you to answer.
The red walls shrink down to a telephone box
after every heated conversation. In the debris,
we tug wires across the bed, disconnect the lines
with umbilical precision. Hang up
with a practiced knife-thrust.
Robotic, she tells me to leave a message,
a cluster of awkward words
you will shoulder to your ear whilst you dress.
I hesitate, hold the phone like a gun.
I gather my words. I can’t say one.


1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

One response to “Dialling Tone

  1. Excellent writing, very powerful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s