I’m glad you rang.
That we talked in bright
and sunlit tones,
exchanging our
How are yous?
and
What’s the news?
No-one would guess what
lies beneath our
cheer.
The weight of silence
feels stone-cold.
We skip perilously by and
do not stop.
You really do not know,
no-one calls me Sally
anymore.
The Call
in Poetry