“Give rise to a mind that, even while responding, does not abide anywhere.” Feel Light Sound
Old Telephones Landline 1950s
Anxiety is transferred via Bakelite.
A call you fear, and fear to answer.
You know the sad steps you walk cross
from armchair you will walk alone;
then hesitate before you lift receiver.
The voice you hear is one you do not know.
It wants to sell insurance or shampoo,
when your perverse desire’s to know
how the operation went, a firm prognosis,
either way to relieve ( as though you were the patient)
you from your paralysis, that in-between and common
rictus on the classic theater mask,
neither upturn of comic nor downturn of tragic
but straight line of uncertainty while you wait.
You have thought of the word ‘corduroy’,
its piping and long indents between the piping,
how it fits a thigh or in a jacket
a shoulder and the slight rise of a breast
and realize it carries always the freight of what
it connotes, that a world of objects surrounds
our sensible life that brings home a double
meaning, the thing neutral in itself, the thing
desired or of memory. Thus is a telephone
cream and cool on a desk but you know too
that other nervy telephone you’ve sat by,
minute by minute, quickened, awaiting its call.
You have thought of corduroy and thought of it again.
Then “before we were lost in a train of thought, preoccupied by worries and anxieties about the past or future, we now can taste that part of us that is originally free from discrimination and attachment, making room for self-care and compassion toward others” A winter day Sarah Quartel
Vita right NOW!