The Call Poem by Libby Simpkins

The call-
Crushed lungs, heaving
Gasping for hope, for faith.
Lay as rock, stone
Cold gravel repeatedly torn
Mangled under heavy black circles
Tires- Tearing through raw
Coal-black tar.

Strained ears:
Thump, Thump, Thump.
Determined rhythms circle my brain
Enclosing vacant space, leaving no way out
Except for the key, unlocking veiled secrets
camouflaged to the surrounding of leadened blood
Pumping the persistent beat
Thump.. Thump...Thump..

Tightly wound hands
Cold metal sides.
Heart monitors rip through silence
Knitting pain into a collage
Seeing through mirrored glances
A poker face that hides the future
Will he stay?