Zoe Crout Poet Free verse

Two Dollars a Coin From Help

I am two dollars a coin away from help
But the clank of life 
left me unadorned

I abhor the spirit that the doesn’t scream
Because I scream
To the telephone screen

I’m revolted by the volts of pain
Spread from phone
To phone box pane

The sticky flow of the scent of blood
Interests my intent
Its memory hugs:
The phone,
The screen,
The glass,

Your next to me in speech
But your speech is not sweet
For two dollars a coin
We meet twice a week

The floor is bad and stable
But never when I need
This grasp of horror holds me 
And never lets me leave

I am not a spirit 
I am not the floor
I am only a drop of blood

I cascade like shadow beneath the weary feet
Of a telephone tree
Like terrible intelligent beings
I whittle away
Like God and his lineage
I disappear

Till the telephone rings
And I bleed with despair
Or a change of life chimes
For two dollars a coin

And I ask to be freed 
From the telephone screen
But the phone doesn’t ring
And it makes me feel weak.

For two dollars a coin 
We meet twice a week
Only two dollars a coin
To make me feel free

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