free stock image from pixabay (CC0)
free stock image from pixabay (CC0)

I’m hanging on the
telephone wire,
I’m digging up the
cable lines,
I’m searching the
salt-dappled skies for

They’re still there
shooting signals all
around the world
and yet
you haven’t called.

I’m waiting for your call –
your email –
your next crumb to
my starving heart.
Days dripping down
the walls,
silence sour and simmering
in my mouth.

Why haven’t you called?
And why don’t I call you? –

instead of pining here –
draped like a
consumption victim or a
fainting Victorian lady
on the sofa,
phone cradled to my chest.

Why haven’t you called?
Why don’t I call you?

Because you have
no clue,
no idea –

I’m hanging myself with
telephone wire,
desperately digging graves
in search of cable lines,
suffocating on the vacuum of
space as I reach for
satellite signals

Forcing the clock to freeze
until the moment you return
and I have a chance
to see you

And I can’t –
CANNOT shatter the carnival
mirror – the illusion –
or you’ll see – you’ll see
I’m NOT your friend.

I’m your SECRET.
Your secret –
secret – unrequited –
hidden on the dark side of the moon –

like the million insects in
rain forests
that will NEVER
be discovered –
their secrets safe

Silent Sister


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