Trying to Help
I am an operator for
Nine one one emergency calls.
A wife calls, all in an uproar.
She gasps that her husband, dead falls.
So I tell her to calm down first.
I will help her through this ordeal.
Don't just assume the very worst.
Take a moment to calmer feel.
And check once more when not so tense
As to whether he's dead or not.
She leaves the phone. There's a silence.
Then I hear a single gun shot.
I have a sense I will be vexed.
Back on the phone I hear, 'What's next? '
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Comments about this poem (Trying to Help by Ima Ryma )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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