Please Stay On The Line Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

'please hold the line'




The outage moves through the district
like a slow shutter:
screens dim, routers blink out,
the towers fall quiet.



By late afternoon
the only things still running
are the old booths
near the tram depot,
their glass etched
with years of initials.



People drift toward them
in loose clusters,
each carrying a number
they've memorised
for the first time in years.

Inside the nearest booth,
the receiver lifts easily.


A recorded voice
cuts in at once:
"All our operators are busy now.
Please stay on the line."



Then the music starts —
a thin, looping melody
that sounds like it's been
copied too many times,
its edges worn down
to a soft metallic shimmer.



You wait,
listening for the moment
when the message might change,
'Your call is important to us...'
when the music might break,
when a real voice
might finally arrive.



But the loop holds steady,
turning over itself
with patient precision,
as if the world
is keeping you in place
until it decides
what comes next.













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