Friends Britons Countrymen

The Phone Booth

2011-05-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

The Phone Booth

She slumps in the booth, weeping
into the phone. Asking a question
or two, and weeping some more.
Her companion, an old fellow in jeans
and denim shirt, stands waiting
his turn to talk, and weep.
She hands him the phone.
For a minute they are together
in a tiny booth, his tears
dropping alongside hers. Then
she goes to lean against the fender
of their sedan and listens
to him talk about arrangements.

I watch all this from my car.
I don't have a phone at home, either.
I sit behind the wheel,
smoking, wanting to make
my own arrangements. Pretty soon
he hangs up. Comes out and wipes his face.
They get in the car and sit
with the windows rolled up.
The glass grows steamy as she
leans into him, as he puts
his arm around her shoulders.
The workings of comfort in that cramped, public space.

I take my small change over
to the booth, and step inside.
But leaving the door open, it's
so close in there. The phone still warm to the touch.

I hate to use a phone
that's just brought news of death.
But I have to, it being the only phone
for miles, and one that might
listen without taking sides.

I put in coins and wait.
Those people in the car wait too.
He starts the engine then kills it.
Where to? None of us able
to figure it out. Not knowing
where the next blow might fall,
or why. The ringing at the other end

stops when she picks it up.
Before I can say two words, the phone
begins to shout, "I told you it's over!
Finished! You can go
to hell as far as I'm concerned!"

I drop the phone and pass my hand
across my face. I close and open the door.
The couple in the sedan roll
their windows down and
watch, their tears stilled
for a moment in the face of this distraction.
Then they roll their windows up
and sit behind the glass.

We don't go anywhere for a while.
And then we go.

Paired: Krum + Paley

2011-05-06T07:57:00.000-07:00

One Day

One day one of us will be lost to the other this has been talked about but lightly turning away shyness this business of con- fronting the preference for survival

my mother said the
children are grown we
are both so sick let us
die together my father
replied no no you
will be well he lied

of course I
want you in the world
whether I’m in it or
not your spirit
I probably mean

there is always
something to say in
the end speaking
without breath one
of us will be lost
to the other

Paired: Holmes + Wetzsteon

2011-05-03T07:55:00.000-07:00

Sakura Park

The park admits the wind,
the petals lift and scatter

like versions of myself I was on the verge
of becoming; and ten years on

and ten blocks down I still can't tell
whether this dispersal resembles

a fist unclenching or waving goodbye.
But the petals scatter faster,

seeking the rose, the cigarette vendor,
and at least I've got by pumping heart

some rules of conduct: refuse to choose
between turning pages and turning heads

though the stubborn dine alone. Get over
"getting over": dark clouds don't fade

but drift with ever deeper colors.
Give up on rooted happiness

(the stolid trees on fire!) and sweet reprieve
(a poor park but my own) will follow.

There is still a chance the empty gazebo
will draw crowds from the greater world.

And meanwhile, meanwhile's far from nothing:
the humming moment, the rustle of cherry trees.

—Rachel Todd Wetzsteon