Ubiquitous Cruel Nights
by Odin Roark

Before I do it,
I let the phone rings incessantly.
Lke a drip from ice melting,
forever stretching its moment,
doing what it does best,
prolonging,
until I pick up.

When finally a voice says "hello,"
my mouth opens,
but like the icicle,
suddenly time is ensconced by a frigid waft,
my moment is frozen.

"Hello" comes the voice a second time,
the voice I know,
but wish to forget…
again.

With sweat soaked hands,
I tuck the cell back,
in its pocket-safety-net against my heart
and lean a few degrees further.

The railing is nothing.
The locked foothold is harder.
The peering down into rushing water,
oh,
so,
easy.

The pause.

The moment.

Finality...

I choke.

To awaken from such a dream
seems unfair.

I'm afraid.
I'm so afraid to dial again
before I really do it.

Maybe tomorrow?