Phone Call

A poem about somebody who’s never owned a phone

Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash

I heard the phone ring today and what a sound it made.
Shrill and sharp and screeching, like poetry broken and frayed.
At first it’s a little unsettling, unexpected and out of the blue.
“What is that noise?” I grimaced. “And what am I meant to do?”