NaPoWriMo Day 1: Disembodied

I.
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.

II.
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.

III.
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.