I wait for the call

I wait for the call
that never comes,
the expectation that
begins before
the rotary dial,
when you pick up
the phone and ask
the operator to make
the call, but you have
to chat or gossip first
that’s part of her salary
or perhaps cajole
the other parties off
the party line.
I still wait for the call
through the dial and
the slimline and the cell
and the BlackBerry and
the iPhone and who knows
what else is going to happen
but it still doesn’t come.
The dust layers thick as
I sit on the shelf,
waiting.

This poem is submitted to One Shot Sunday hosted by One Stop Poetry. To see other poem submitted and the conclusion of the interview with photographer Rob Hanson, please visit the site.

Photograph: They Never Call by Rob Hanson. Used with permission for One Stop poetry.