Maybe there's still room.
Maybe, there's still a phone
with numbers to dial, and
tones to echo
Maybe there's still a voice
on the far end of the wire,
the number you have dialed
has been disconnected.
Maybe, there's still a gap
between your palms where I might
find sanctuary for my cheeks,
where I might
purse my lips and query.
Maybe there's still room
for a wanderer on your spare pillow
or for a poet between your knees.
© Copyright 2016 juliejew. All rights reserved.
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