I hear the blessed doorbell well today.
Sometimes, you know, the inner chimes
of tinnitus wrap it in a demotic ignorance.
An engineer to tell me that my line is up?
I turn out sharpish, trundle down steep stairs
step through the unlocked door, keyless, to see
from out the bubble of my secure porch
two fat ladies, like interfering aunts.
"Oh, 'can the dead come back to life again?'"
one offers helpfully, waving pamphlet:
"The Bible says..." Lacking wand I wave hands:
"Expecting BT..." I utter through glass.
Alas, though dark Jehovah shall not pass,
it seems BT has left me on my ass.
....................
They said three days. Later an engineer did call to estimate Monday by the latest. It was fixed in early January.
....
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
