The Phone Call [to The Lonely Dancer] Poem by Stephen Denny Paul White

Calling you one thousand times
-one thousand times you fail to answer.
Wondering if always in,
shall love make me the lonely dancer?
Killing time by watching clocks
as I'm awake, though dozing off;
Hoping my phone will vibrate
When not too early,
not
too
late.
Giving time to reconcile
using ESP;
Screaming your name in my head
but you don't answer me.
My heart's breaking
as I'm waiting,
merely for a quicker heartbeat
in the dark, to hear your voice
and billow in my bodies heat.
Await a demon in the day
to melt my sorrows all away
into a cup of lonely tears
that only once is suit for cheers.
And never did I ever think
such brilliant minds could make me sink
so low into my misery:
invention: cell-phones... answering?
Who'd think such love could merely hurt
by waiting where such tensions lurk?
I'm in the dark, and in the blue,
awaiting excuses from you,
ones I cannot defend.
I'm doubting,
at the same time,
Scared,
and knowingly, you're just not there;
but pressing send's too easy
to let you off-hook so easily.
And still I call, and still I wait,
for what could surely not be fate;
What use would life store purposely
for calling someone uselessly
one thousand sixty times?
And now unconscious, I'm asleep
as I exist by slowed heartbeats.
And in my hand, the phone vibrates;
I guess your call was just too late.
Another day must pass.
I wake to find my hands are loose
and on the ground, the phone is too;
The pieces scattered on the floor
to seemingly be used no more.
With high-pitched shrieks and wails of dead
I jump to collect the remnants
of what is left of the cell phone;
Oh, Damn-it, I just should have known!
I scramble to try hopelessly
but still my fate seems locked and sealed;
You'll call me and I will not answer
leaving you the lonely dancer.





copyright 2008 stephen white