close stars
baked earth
every summer promise
down the hill
a phone rings
large and unaccountable
this oldworld
insistent machine
doesn’t understand
its time is passed
the whole street
leans out windows
straining to hear
who’s not home
1 comment:
fromYorI do enjoy poems about phones. Do you know Chris Wallace Crabbe's poem "A summons in peak period?"
Post a Comment