Telephone
Telephone


An old telephone we have
at home.
Not that old, really,
black, grey buttons, a long-coiled wire.
We never moved it,
and I never knew why
still cleaning it every Sunday,
hearing the dust motes complain.
I remember when we were younger
and we raced to it.
Now we both long
to hear it ring one more time,
to race just once more.