The phone shrills, eternally Until it stops, beyond a threatening hiatus In storm clouds starts again An annoying reincarnation, when the machine kicks in Of a robot voice, the timbre thin And splintered, with the urgency of desperation Yet, pronouncing stumble stilted Admonishments and infractions Warnings ending with that spy film click Of an unseen listener, purpose all but unknown The intent, inexplicable Except perhaps to instil A vague anxiety As if somewhere, cloying in a desert land A machine lumbered ingracefully Towards us, having cut the line Nothing left But an ill-determined menace A cat’s breath In my mouth That strangely intimate purr As if I were a child feeding On some wild nectar In the cup of too wise savagery The insistent hunger When a voice in the white noise Of emptiness, says suddenly Is that you? And as then, I still don’t know Which one of us it was, or is That speaks
