Waiting for the Phone to Ring

Headache seeping
between fingers jammed at temples,
tracing
like a gun barrel while
menthol burns between
my fingers and on my tongue

flower oil
upstairs she is playing piano again
and I am waiting
for the phone to ring, as the million
ghosts of girls like me sigh
and wring their tears on history

yesterday was arm day
and my muscles tear and rebuild their way
like trees unrooted, knots
that shake themselves awake
beneath my skin
tensing and untensing as I’m
waiting, waiting
for the phone to ring

I think I have a fever
but it has been tricksy and insidious
slipping one, and then
two hot fingers
seamlessly peeling back
my skin. I have eyes that squint
from crying –

nineteen is gone, and
left a hole to fill – still, our plans
they leave me
hanging
fearing, hurting
cursing

as I sit, and hope to hell
that the phone will start to ring.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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