zero

Over the hills
Under the moon
And sinking in darkened valleys,
Desire is harbored inside the black jaws of the invisible--
The grievous Nothingness.


A telephone buried in dust
"2" is A-B-C
"8" is T-U-V
"0" is OPERATOR
My cold digit presses "0"
Just to hear a voice.

She asks me questions
And I'm seeking answers.

"Are your fingernails painted?
Is your husband waiting for you
In a warm home illuminated by the blue shadows of a television?
Have the children been fed?
Have your sons and daughters been put to bed?
Did they utter their nightly prayers?
Our lives are whispers
Dying in this cold December air
And no one is listening.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Zero?

"Outside my window
Snow tumbles from the sky,
The flakes stick to dirty windshields
And shattered sidewalks,
The falling snow reminds me of a winter night that thrives
Under the murk of my mind.

"The flesh of ice
The passion of lovers
The lovers were strangers,
Her chapped lips
And whiskey stained soul,
She smelled like home
And tasted like safety.

"The traffic lights were flashing
Yellow
Yellow
Yellow,
'6' is M-N-O
'6' is M-N-O
'6' is M-N-O,
And yellow is caution
An admonition I did not heed.

"I gave myself to her
Inside her,
She felt like sanctuary
But O how the senses deceive!
She would retreat before the sun broke the sky
And '4' is G-H-I.

"Are your fingernails painted, Mrs. Zero?
Will your tender fingertips connect the dots I have lost?
They have slipped through these digits
And joined the constellations buried in the sky,
Cosmic graves that glimmer
Faded chronicles that shine
Beyond the reach of time
Astronauts
And the unbroken imaginations of beloved children.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Zero?
Our lives are whispers
Dying in the cold December air."

And no one is listening.

xx