A Telephone Call

it is surprising. A soul uses
a telephone for a call.
Are not telephones supposed
to be dead? They're alive
only for the those maids
who do not have cellphones,

they are for them. But it is
a surprise, it is my call.
Long distance from Vegas.
Midnoon. A sure way of
catching me, because she knows
i am home and not doing any
work at this hour.

she is crying. She says she
is depressed. All those that she
loves either die, or they simply
leave her. She wants to come home
and she's broke.

can't you help me about this
loss? this mess. This hell.
Help me. She cries. She insists.

I have some pills, she says.
I love you.

What can i say? This woman
who once betrayed
my brother. This woman
who stole my hope.

I put down the phone.
She must face the wall
that she built.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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