[Poetry | Issue 10]

Timothy duffy

The Telephone Booth by the Cloakroom at the Archive 

It is a persistent object, line to line,
living to dead, the alabaster curve of bone
turned to energy. The doors still offered 

to respect the sacred moment of a voice
becoming electric. When they informed me
of your death, every remembered conversation 

became bound in a long shelf of the mind.
I think with the right framework, I can send
these ideas to you. You’ll be the one  

waiting for my call, across some wires
they have left for us. I’ll be the archivist,
pallid, checking my pockets for change. 

 __________

About the author

Tim Duffy is a poet and teacher in Connecticut. His work has recently appeared in trampset, Salt Hill, and Pleiades. He is working on a collection entitled The Rabbit in the Archive.