Dusting the Phone is about infatuation and the frustration of love. The poem鈥檚 content, ideas, language and structure are explored. Comparisons and alternative interpretations are also considered.
I am spending my time imagining the worst that could happen. I know this is not a good idea, and that being in love, I could be spending my time going over the best that has been happening.
The phone rings heralding some disaster. Sirens. Or it doesn鈥檛 ring which also means disaster. Sirens. In which case, who would ring me to tell? Nobody knows.
The future is a long gloved hand. An empty cup. A marriage. A full house. One night per week in stranger鈥檚 white sheets. Forget tomorrow,
You say, don鈥檛 mention love. I try. It doesn鈥檛 work. I assault the postman for a letter. I look for flowers. I go over and over our times together, re-read them.
This very second I am waiting on the phone. Silver service. I polish it. I dress for it. I鈥檒l give it extra in return for your call.
Infuriatingly, it sends me hoaxes, wrong numbers; or worse, calls from boring people. Your voice disappears into my lonely cotton sheets.
I am trapped in it. I can鈥檛 move. I want you. All the time. This is awful 鈥 only a photo. Come on, damn you, ring me. Or else. What? I don鈥檛 know what.
Dusting the Phone by Jackie Kay, reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books.
Note: this poem is included for reference purposes, please refer to your anthology for the definitive version.