RING RING
Sometimes the phone would ring
and I would run to answer it but by the time I got there,
the line was dead.
Pressing the receiver against my ear
I pretended it was my dad
calling to check in on me while he was gone.
Curled into a ball
on the blue and white linoleum tiles in my grandmother’s kitchen
I twisted the cord around my finger,
answering make-believe questions
while the dial tone droned in my ear like a tired bee.
My grandmother caught me once
and told me to quit playing games
that the phone was not a toy
but still, each time it rang,
I raced to be the first one
to pick it up
and say hello.
@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2010
All Rights Reserved
I love how you’re capturing these telling moments with lots of specific details. Each poem = different emotion = different nuance = different image.
Thank you, Jama. I’m trying (but it’s a whole lotta years to go back in my remembering – haha)
This one is so poignant. It reminds me when I believed my father was the face on the dime. Almost halfway there, Susan!
Thank you, Candace. The face on the dime! That’s so telling!
Halfway…please let me come up with enough ideas for the rest of the month!
I guess what I should say is that I hope I have enough memories for the rest of the month.
“Curled into a ball
on the blue and white linoleum tiles in my grandmother’s kitchen
I twisted the cord around my finger,
answering make-believe questions
while the dial tone droned in my ear like a tired bee.”
This is such powerful imagery, Susan. I feel as if I’m right there with you, hearing that dial tone.
Thank you, Tracy. I can see that kitchen so very clearly that it transports me back there in a heartbeat.
Beautiful poem. I found your blog today, and I’m enjoying the father-themed poetry.
Thank you for stopping by. I’m glad you’re enjoying the father poems.
tanita says 🙂
I think what both touches me and upsets me is the Little You who still wants that contact. A flower opened optimistically for whatever the day brings – be it sun or rain.
That’s the beauty of childhood, I know. But it’s hard for the adult me to see that flower keep being so optimistic.
Re: tanita says 🙂
I wanted contact for a long, long time. Long into adulthood. I only recently gave it up and it feels like a huge weight has lifted off my shoulders.