deepundergroundpoetry.com
No One
The fan blades
cycle old air through the stale room,
cooling a person
who isn’t there.
A clock
screams out the time in green block letters,
shouting
at no one and nothing.
Two lamps
spread their light over a room,
illuminating objects
that have no one to look at them.
A phone,
Ringing on the bedside table
Asks to be answered
And is greeted with nothing
A car,
Three miles away,
Is wrapped around a telephone pole.
There was someone there this time.
cycle old air through the stale room,
cooling a person
who isn’t there.
A clock
screams out the time in green block letters,
shouting
at no one and nothing.
Two lamps
spread their light over a room,
illuminating objects
that have no one to look at them.
A phone,
Ringing on the bedside table
Asks to be answered
And is greeted with nothing
A car,
Three miles away,
Is wrapped around a telephone pole.
There was someone there this time.
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