by Easy Jack P., 16
Sure your hands are cold down my back
But your breath feels nice against my neck
It’s a steady rhythm
And that’s what’s so nice
The consistency is key
You’re always just a phone call away
Isn’t it all magical
Little beeps and clicks
Sent from miles apart
Sinew and tissue
Made of licorice wire
Communicating through a breath
Or a simple ring
I used to call you more
For when my sense were blinded
But now I do it on irregular patterns
Sometime just to talk
You always answer
Speaking is our gift
Given to us by elders
Who knew how valuable it was
To hold that power
To understand each other
On a level I can hardly comprehend
Because I don’t know who I would be without words
They flow in an unconscious stream from my lips
And somehow connect to yours
I suppose every gift must have it’s end
When the wrapping paper has been torn
And the trinket has grown dusty on the shelf
I guess that’s what makes you so special
Makes talking so nice
Is that I know after every conversation
I’ll hang up the phone
And return to normal life
But we’ll occupy a part of each other’s brains
For a little while longer
Cause the telephone makes us stronger
Red Bank, New Jersey
Notes from our interns on selecting this piece: This captures the power and magic of communication through the telephone. The author’s use of sensory imagery and metaphor creates a sense of intimacy and connection, while also exploring the impermanence of human relationships.
Bridge Ink 