Ghost On The Line Poem by Not Long Left
Ghost On The Line
It came,
before the last
second
melted.
Each time
I hear it
I shudder,
The ghost
on the other
line.
Hysterics,
or a Calm
not sure
which is
worse.
If he is
dead,
I think
things
will only
get worse
from here.
I tremble myself
into a wet
heap
I have no
womb to climb
in, nor a strong
hand to squeeze.
bring me black
long moments
of nothing
It's to late,
and to soon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 7:33:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Hi Vincent...get to read 7 or 8 poems each day....glad I got to read this one....always like the mysterious ones....thanks Vallerie