The ghosts call me late
most nights, rocking
the cradle of the landline
we never use. I never pick up
but I see their faces vaporize
in my icy breath,
their empty mouths asking
You put away all the leftovers?
Do you know who we are?
I can see their mouths form it,
feel their curses touch my body
I mumble irritably
and try to solve their hungry
riddle, without magic:
pointing them to the fridge
_
most nights, rocking
the cradle of the landline
we never use. I never pick up
but I see their faces vaporize
in my icy breath,
their empty mouths asking
You put away all the leftovers?
Do you know who we are?
I can see their mouths form it,
feel their curses touch my body
I mumble irritably
and try to solve their hungry
riddle, without magic:
pointing them to the fridge
_
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