Radio Silence

Out here in the outpost
I guard the borderland
“Over and out” – I lose the call
And you are out again

This is my shout out
From the hinterland
“Roger, Roger” at my post
But you are – out – again

You do not deem to call
While my receiver’s on
I fiddle with the dial
But – static – is the tongue

Cold the rime upon the pane
That crackles to the sound
Of Solitaire I muster out 
– And the hand that I put down

Is a winner, at its best
– It seems the Ace is high –
– And here my friendly guest
Just winks an evil eye –

The creaking of my little hut
Is charged with energy
Buffeted by winds about
– thou art mine enemy! –

Cold the outer fathoms
And in the frozen stasis
White is in the noise
And silence in the spaces

The dark outside is deep
Did I just hear a knock?
– it’s just the knock, knock 
Knocking of my beating heart

– Cornered as a winter mouse
Frightened from its nest
I startle to the voice I hear
And flee my inner guest
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Wolf Avatar
February 25, 2023 at 6:25 PM
VERY interesting ink here, John. Outposts... loneliness... noises... a recipe for horror. ~ gw
Oldham Avatar
February 26, 2023 at 2:25 PM
Yep, a little cabin fever, for sure! But really a metaphor for today's mental health climate.
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