Dead Air and Dial Tones

The wind on this corner is a biting, sharp knife

that cuts through the words of a difficult life.

I finally found the breath to say I was wrong,

but the signal was weak though the feeling was strong.

There’s a three-tone beep and then a sudden hollow,

a silence too wide and too heavy to swallow.

I’m staring at the screen as it fades back to black,

with no way to take the long silence back.

I see the oily smudge where my ear pressed the glass,

watching the strangers and the city buses pass.

I had the apology right there on my tongue,

now it’s just more air in a tired old lung.