Operator Give Me A Call

The steeled room with it’s airtight walls and door

A green painted room chairs bolted to the floor

A small, hardly touched, before death, meal

And I sit on Satan’s throne, waiting for the room to seal

As the heavy-hinged door closes, it’s peeking window there

I feel stuffy, stifling heat, as I say my final prayer.

I glance around, I sweat, the red phone now I see

A call from the governor from the dust it will save me

The phone has rung, I heard it. These silent walls pass sound

A hand has pulled it loose, the receiver taken down

My heart is leaping madly, to the governor say hello

To the outside world, I will soon be freed to go

I will see my children and continue with my life

I will count of all my blessings, remember sadly my dead wife

And forget my grim enclosure, as put there by a knife

Her suicide, my guilt, that nearly ended my short life

And looking through a window, while stepping from the car

I see my two girls waiting, sitting in the yard

Their abundant golden hair, shining as the sun

Whose heat draws my eyes closed, though the day has just begun

And like all these remembrances, sweet and full of glee

It fills my eyes with a sandman’s bag of sleep

I squint and try to blink, but this gas I cannot fight

And underneath his spell, my thoughts and dreams pass to night

The fans blow swiftly, the hissing leaves my brain

The straps are newly loosened, the pellets worked again

The phone is on it’s hook, it’s cord is gently swaying

And while the dialer tries again, the man has seen his making.

Barbara Blackcinder

About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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