Occupied

The fluorescent light has a flicker and hum,

making my tired brain feel heavy and numb.

The lady in billing had nothing to say,

she clicked the line shut and walked away.

The plastic receiver is cold in my hand,

a language of static I don't understand.

The dial tone vibrates, a flat, steady drone,

like a heart monitor pulse when the rhythm is gone.

The gray coiled cord is a snake on the floor,

I don’t want to answer the office door.

No signature needed, no papers to sign,

just the ghost of a person on the end of the line.