TELEFONAZO

A poem by Robert Beveridge

You’re on the phone again. I keep
telling you there’s no one
of that name here.

But the phone rings
at 3:30AM
and I know it’s you.

You have never
given me your name
but I know your voice

its mold-smeared sapphire liquid
nipples breathe ask for the person
who doesn’t live here again


Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. He  celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of his first publication in November 2018, and has since published over a thousand poems. Recent/upcoming appearances in Cough Syrup, Penumbra, and Lowestoft Chronicle, among others.
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