The Man on the Other End of the Phone
By Ewan
- 9198 reads
He says hello and my name,
as if trying either out
for the very first time.
My accent becomes his,
maybe there was a school-friend
or drinking pal whose name I bear.
So I reflect his tones and argot
from north of the border
or West of the Pecos
from when he used to read
to me from Zane Grey,
when death came from a six-gun
or a feathered shaft.
Not this slow, creeping un-death.
I make him laugh, God knows how,
or why I laugh with him.
We talk about Rangers
and I picture Souness,
while he can see Slim Jim
or maybe Willie Waddell.
But he loses the thread, laughs again:
so I talk about Clyde puffers
and what the Air Force
was like long before
I followed him in,
like all good sons attempting
just a tiny connection...
through this dark and heavy curtain.
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Comments
I've read many pieces on here
I've read many pieces on here about this subject and this is one of the best
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This is our Facebook and
This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day
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The phone is a great metaphor
The phone is a great metaphor for the difficulty in reconnecting.
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This is our Poem of the Week
This is our Poem of the Week - Congratulations!
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Affecting. This is a really
Affecting. This is a really strong piece. I like the style, the conversation - lends so much more weight to the central and final lines by themselves
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This is our Poem of the Month
This is our Poem of the Month - Congratulations!
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Nice work Ewan. Combining the
Nice work Ewan. Combining the detachment from experience of a phone call, with the attempted connection of the two people on the line. It pulls back and forth satisfyingly.
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Very good Ewan
I especially like those little references to football and the RAF, trying to make connections through a shared but different experience across generations.
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