Static Waiting

The line hums—a cold, steady drone

pressing silence against my ear.

No voice, no breath, no answer made,

just the endless song of disarray.

It drills a hollow in the quiet room,

a mechanical ghost in the gloom.

Each beep a pulse, a trapped refrain,

a call unanswered, tethered pain.

I lift the handset, hold the weight,

waiting for sound that won’t translate.

Between the rings, a space unknown—

static waiting, all alone.