Thursday, June 26, 2008


The darkroom smells of vinegar
and silver-salted secrets.
The telephone rings and makes
the stairwell echo—but you
let the voicemail get it.
It’s just the doctor calling back with
news you don’t want.
Every frame on this roll of film
turns into a skull.

--for Poefusion

Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Michelle Johnson said...

the doctor's always seem to have bad news for everyone. and, when it involves the head it can be scarier than almost anything else. another great poem. have a nice day, tiel.

tumblewords said...

'silver-salted secrets' - a great and telling phrase!

Jennie said...

Thanks for sharing this. I, too, love the phrase "silver-salted secrets"

Pam said...

I like how this poem uses all the senses. I could hear the loud ring and smell the vinegar. This was a difficult set of words this week and I take my hat off to you.

one more believer said...

another great one tiel, best one for me... telephone rings and makes the stairwell echo...