Telephoning Her
The dial spins back, clicks still. Just half an inch Of silence then the abrupt eruption blurts Its two quick jets of noise into his ear. Again the double spurt; again. Three, four. She does not answer. Give her just two more. Yet still he holds the instrument to his ear But no longer is imagination bare.
Inside his head the room assumes its shape: The dishevelled bed. a stocking on the floor.
The tortured clown grimaces in his frame; 7 The room seems empty, but how can he be sure? And with uncertainty the light grows dim, But not before he sees a movement there, Quick twitching of the coverings on the bed, Or thinks he might have noticed something Darkness grows thick as tar. Then he can hear-- Though not in the liquorice-black thing that he holds— Her voice, thick with the body's joy and minds despair,
Moaning a foreign word, a stranger's name. Derisively the darkness jerks again, Spits twice into his violated ear. stir.
VERNON
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