There are ghosts in the telephone
She says

Holding the receiver
As a tiny baby fist
Holding on for life or death
Using the last bit of strength

There are ghosts in the telephone
She assures me
Eyes protruding, lips pursed
She believes every word she says

I can hear him he's still here
Repeating a few words on the air
Repeating

Late at night he's the loudest
Drowning all other sounds out
He sits beside me in the night

There are ghosts in the telephone
She says

As she unveils herself infront of me in great racking sobs
Her eyes misty as though in fog
As only a mother could