Poetica – Your unanswered phone


Day in and day out,

I call but you don't answer,

and so I persist.

 

Mechanical voice

asks me to leave a message

and, of course I do.

 

I start to wonder

if you've joined my crowd of friends

at St. Peter's gate.

Contemporaries

ripe with years, without notice,

tumble from the tree.

 

Leaving me behind,

I know you won't intend it,

but I grieve the thought.

 

I do not fear death

as much as abandonment.

Please pick up the phone!

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