new message – poem by p chatelain


new message

i had a dream that i went to your doorstep unannounced. i sat there in the damp evening with my phone in hand, and sent you a text “are you home?”

upstairs you entertained another in your covers. your pillow vibrated and your hand swiped away the nuisance as your phone glimmered like the courage i’d gathered in my heart.

as pride built up in my diaphragm, your lips acquaint foreign hands, and another message from me weakly lit up the room, darkened by taunting passion.

this time, the light caught your eyes and diverted your attention. my name on that screen, for a moment, resembled a silent Times Square New Year’s, a second of anticipation

followed by immediate celebration. inevitably, the light shut off again and darkness resumed. but a familiar hand wandered apologetically to the ignored device.

the hand that had known me best, compelled to react upon habit, opened the phone and typed, “i’m not, sorry!” but for a moment realizing at the recipient’s name. mine.

the phone’s backlight dimmed as it judged you, begging you not to send the message. with a simple click it was gone, and seconds later, below, i was too.

 

Phillipe Chatelain

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