Call Me When You’re Home

This poem wants to be a description
But first I need a phone call
With news
About a terrible book—

No one calls
To rub souls

I can’t give a picture
Of the unfalsifiable me.

Meanwhile:

Back at the ranch a dog shows up,
He can’t say where he’s been
But it made him agreeable

He stole something along the road
And has a general richness.

No one calls with ideas
No one calls just to rub souls
And I can’t give a picture
Of unfalsifiable me

And of course the night is dark and long

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto