The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by John Milbury-Steen
On the Suicide Hotline
All I want is -pathy, -pathy, some
sym- and em-, a semblance of co-ache.
I crave a voice debating me, Resolved,
you have a life too good for you to take,
but on the hot line I'm a triagee.
"Are you holding a gun?" I answer, "Yes."
"Loaded?" "Yes." I have to act as if
my desperation speeds me to success.
They make me name the model of the gun.
They want to hear it click. They want to hear
despair or they will put me back on hold.I call too often. I'm becoming old.
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