Piker Press Banner
August 08, 2022

When I hear my uncle's voice on the telephone

By Abigail George

My uncle's voice is
a sheet of glass.
He means to renovate
my soul. When
he speaks I drift away.
He believes
in gardening at night.
He's always lived
in the city. His beautiful wife died of breast cancer.
I couldn't cope
when I heard the news.
So I wrote this poem
instead. They had three sons.
Too successful.






Article © Abigail George. All rights reserved.
Published on 2016-11-28
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
0 Reader Comments
Your Comments






The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.