Closing off the power

A text from Krusti’s phone;
“It’s Paul, please answer.”

I translate;
Hi mum, I need to see you
to offer hollow reassurance;
to speak of love and great futures;
to grovel and apologise.
I will offer you the richest slice
of my phoney dream;
I will promise you unbuilt castles
and fruit that I shall never pick;
I will say whatever I must
to make you jump,
and if my well-planned words
don’t persuade you to empty your wallet
into my outstretched hand,
I will find another way.

I pick up the phone
A light pressure from my thumb
closes off the power.

the sun sets.
my candle glows dim,
painting a subtle tint on the wall.
I sit on the floor, writing and listening
to the sounds of the town.
I hear Paul talking to someone outside.
the doorbell rings.
there’s no pause in the rhythm
of fingers on keys.
Paul speaks to someone who agrees
that I don’t appear to be in.

His companion is only half right;
I am in, but
I don’t appear.

The Daily Post #Jump

©Jane Paterson Basil