The Black Phone
A white feather landed on the window sill
and wondered who he had betrayed with
his silence. Looked into the deep gulch of
of his consciousness and found bones of
muteness of those he should have called
but never did. He looked at the side table,
The black monster, quiet as him, and when
he lifted the receiver heard only hum of
eternity, and what had ceased to matter.
Nevertheless he rang phone numbers he
remembered, but no one answered; as he
had neglected them they had forgotten him.
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