morguefile.com/creative/SQUAIO

Every Night

a poem about calling

I call every night
Even though the phone is gone
And the ringing never reaches
Your empty room.

My fingers touch tones
Like a genetic code
Making a connection one-way.

And after awhile
I hang up, relieved
The silence still holds.

If you should answer
My heart would break again,
like cables snapping under
the weight of winter ice.

But I still call every night,
Thinking the signal might scatter,
Might reach you beyond the lines.