Ounces

Four hours since the screen said

I'll call soon.

The plastic casing is warm,

slick with the sweat of my palm.

My hand is beginning to cramp,

a dull ache in the thumb's meat.

I won't set it down.

The blue light bleeds

through the cracks of my fingers,

veining the skin in a color

that doesn't belong to the living.

It’s just glass and lithium,

but it weighs more than the table.

It weighs as much as the silence

drifting in from the hall.