Hello Operator

“I bit the hand that fed me, there was blood and blueberries on the bed sheets”
“I need you to stay on th-”

He curled himself around the fire escape
Once, twice, metal
Clattered, warmed by breath
The telephone a requisite interruption
Momentarily providing enough space between
you, knock-kneed, skin grazed by teeth, and
Him, blurred form, protruding jaw.

Plastic buckles, such a sound only thought
possible in time-worn thrillers, the flicker of cliché

a pause

 two breaths

the question of blame

There is always the question of blame

Fingertip to thumb, is
that shadow or curtain?

There’s a balcony door, and an ache from somewhere

An iris flash and

away.

 

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