DOWN AND FALLING Phone call at midnight, your voice dragging a long chain of tears; you say you’re down and still falling; in a motel room, Memphis, Tennessee. Memories can give your day wings or batter it down like a wrecking-ball. Time becomes a bottomless well as again I smell and taste the honey and sweat of your skin; hear your laughter skip across the porch while a Braves’ game plays on the antique radio. And then returns the pain of sitting in a rain that’s cruel in its coldness; seeing your note scribbled on torn paper: “Off with someone new.” Holding on to the telephone, your voice pleading for me to say you deserve a second chance. I stay silent, click the “off” button, and sit out on the porch so I won’t hear the ring. ©2013 Charlie Burttram
Posted on: Tue, 30 Jul 2013 11:04:08 +0000
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