Sunday, April 01, 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 1: Disembodied

The telephone
has told me that
you are dead

and apologizes
for bearing bad news.
I think it's nice

to give the television
a break from being
death's mouthpiece,

but do not say so.
I say Thank you,
and then thank you,

and then goodbye.

The first telegram
read What hath
God wrought?

and I think of the few
men gathered
at the rail depot,

looking at one-
another, benefactors
to this ghostly message,

knowing there to be
a man on the other end
and doubting still.

Tonight the telephone
will not stop apologizing
for my loss,

the radio crooning
that every little thing
will be alright
in voices

I am convinced exist
nowhere but in
the object itself.

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