Three Six Five Zero
by Conor O'Callaghan
I called up tech and got the voicemail code.
It's taken me this long to find my feet.
Since last we spoke that evening it has snowed.
Fifty-four new messages. Most are old
and blinking into a future months complete.
I contacted tech to get my voicemail code
to hear you voice, not some bozo on the road
the week of Thanksgiving dubbing me his sweet
and breaking up and bleating how it snowed
the Nashville side of Chattanooga and slowed
the beltway to a standstill. The radio said sleet.
The kid in tech set on my voicemail code.
I blew a night on the lightening the system's load,
woke to white enveloping the trees, the street
that's blanked out by my leaving. It had snowed.
Lately others' pasts will turn me cold.
I heard out every message, pressed delete.
I'd happily forget my voice, the mail, its code.
We spoke at last that evening. Then it snowed.
--Ben
2 comments:
I really like this poem. It's clever that he uses the voicemail code as the title. The first time I read the poem, I was confused about the chronology of events.
I agree. This poem is really quite clever, though confusing. THe poems goal seems to be, however, to create a feeling of frustration. I feel that the poet is trying to share how technology can be frustrating and confusing.
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