i can see it in mind’s eye . . .
the phone hanging on the wall between
your bedroom and the living room, next to
the closet door, across from the bathroom
for endless years it hung there, dripping
its tears, it rang, crying for your answer,
but you turned a deaf ear, until the end
when you needed love and forgiveness,
they were yours, always, the telephone bears
witness and, after all, there is nothing,
nothing to forgive . . .