When Phone Calls Don’t Suit

Lets speak,

shoot the breeze

or wind or tornado

with our vocal shotgun,

hope to kill pigeons,

I will be a high force gale

or south westerly chest

puff if it’s just to whip up

your words for one breath

and hear ‘hello,’ for my hair

is gusted into my eyes

and I must rely

on those trumpets

fastened to my brain

to process and make shapes

to the feelings blowing my way.

Or we could wait til tomorrow,

I’m pretty sure I’m scheduled

a hurricane,

just don’t believe it must be

a whirlwind visit,

I am a rock, after all,

ready for word erosion,

so lets speak.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s