Two Minutes of Silence

The phone vibrated against the porcelain

and I almost knocked it into the trash.

The air in here is thick and thin,

waiting for the lightning after the flash.

The mirror is buried in a coat of steam,

hiding the way my eyes look today.

I’m caught in the middle of a bad, waking dream

where the colors have all gone to gray.

But the plastic stick is clear enough.

That second line is a pale, pink ghost.

It doesn't care if the world is tough

or that I’m the one who needs it the most.