The Static

He told me the weather was fine

and then he let the line go hollow.

I waited for the rest of the thought,

the one I’ve been trying to borrow

for twenty-some years of my life.

It’s the same quiet that used to creep

under the gap of the basement door,

where the news anchor talked him to sleep.

Just the muffle of a stranger’s voice

explaining the world in a baritone hum.

I hung up first this time,

feeling my fingers go heavy and numb.