And First The Bad News (Poetry)

Too early for good
the phone’s tone all wrong
it cuts through the calm
and doesn’t bode well
impatient and shrill

The handset feels cold
and dread seems to clutch
all fingers and thumbs
hello rings a bell
that tolls one sad note

He tells me she’s gone
no choice but let go
switch off the machine
no hope left ... and so
he’s letting friends know

He talks a bit more
it hardly goes in
I’m holding the phone
long after he’s done
words stuck on my tongue

And ever since then
anxiety’s nerves
jangle at that sound
too soon in the day
bad tidings can wait