The Phone Call Poem by Ngetich Kiptoo

He kept glancing at the phone
He wanted it to vibrate
He always put the phone in silent mode
He hated the squeaky ring tones
He did not expect a call
He did not want a call
How could he expect a call?
When he did not know what to say?

He knew he could most certainly sweat
If a call came.
He wanted to hear her voice
Her husky, throaty voice
But what could he tell her?
Should he tell her
To move on
That they are incompatible
That he is tired
Of her moaning
Her persistent nagging
Her annoying everything
That he did not think of her
Anymore
Or maybe
He should just let the phone
Ring, ring, ring
Until it stops