Landline Lacrimosa

an Immunity I had not

to the Sting they told me of

though heavy solitary currency,

it’s weighted and sinks inevitably

into rivers of erstwhile love.

An opportunist strained my ear alone

And turned their back too all, including I

Calling out to them, I heard dial tone

The day that followed when she tried to die.

an Antidote I had not

to Searing of new fury.

Through engulfing irritability,

Dispositions amoral, usually

I’d forgotten the self completely.

Companions trod of paths paved with eggshells

Their yolk tender from trauma whisked away

On platters dished with baby’s breath and knells

Their repetitious thanks when I stayed.

a Sweetness I had not

to the bitterest of palates.

Threw body and mind down the front staircase

to a fate only Tanqueray could chase

up in the cold to huts of Vallot.

I’ll never know if I really made the choice,

Had clicked my switch-hook to snuff out the noise

That went out your mouth but through my own voice

The voicemail is full—calls declined with poise.