press a phone call button.
if you ask, wait until an oxygen mask
provides me with substance
as hearer isn't on the other side

clipping off internet ties
is often with a swallow of oil.
cutting off an internet life
like lost drafts of a wallowing poet

standing my ground next to you
mute as a fish.
you sense a transparent wall
towered up on my elbows of cement

longitudional stripe
strikes across numb chest.
connived at all hemorrhoid
you dragged into my pride.
what a voice to receive not a thing from

apartment walls' yeller
a nominated storyteller
is not a winner.
pain in the rear

a pen to the front
can ink a million thick books
in spite of not telling

so I sat at a wooden chair
and blankly looked over you
clutching my phone