No Answer

The telephone next door
Is ringing again,
Ringing and ringing.
He must be out or missing,
Dead or dying,
Or refusing to answer.
The steady rings–
Short and even as
Strokes of a clock–
Bend around furniture,
Collide with walls,
Stop short at windows.
I feel them building up
Like fatal forces
In the corners of the room.
If he’s there,
He has been driven slowly mad by now.
The phone rings
Again and again–
The emptiest sound I know.
And I too am on the edge–

I cannot answer it for him.