poem ‘phone call’

A video call is too hard

I don’t have what it takes to manage it
and his laptop’s never booted up
work has eaten every moment

my outgoing text: Call me when
you have the opportunity and energy

I reach out with

this

ping

of

intent,

better to do this

than

not

Finally, as the depression grinds through its portion
of his brain, and barfs up his attention span, he calls back
and I say I don’t judge you for making me wait

it’s like crossing the road in wild traffic
you must wait for your moment and dash

will the world
still be there
when the scramble for now is over

Published by

Allegra

Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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