Insert coin into slot, the number
falls from the edges of the mind,
like water on a fall, emotion,
burbling up and singing: Oh! The excitement!
But the line is dead, it's been dead
four years and half a mile,
between breaths, I gnaw at the mouthpiece,
and would, for hours; but conscience calls,
ringing through the wire with false memories,
coat comes off the hangar, hat on top; mittens.
Another day pretending to be warm in the dead of winter.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
