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There are ghosts in the telephone She says Holding the receiver As a tiny baby fist Holding on for life or death Using the last bit of strength There are ghosts in the telephone She assures me Eyes protruding, lips pursed She believes every word she says I can hear him he's still here Repeating a few words on the air Repeating Late at night he's the loudest Drowning all other sounds out He sits beside me in the night There are ghosts in the telephone She says As she unveils herself infront of me in great racking sobs Her eyes misty as though in fog As only a mother could He's still here she says to me He's in the telephone Listen listen beep beep beep

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

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Date: 4/28/2014 6:11:00 AM
Awesome write, Congrats on your poem being featured this week,
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Date: 1/16/2014 6:11:00 PM
Scary and so sad, wonderful poem little known nothing.
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little known nothing
Date: 1/17/2014 1:13:00 AM