The Listener

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

I answered a phone call.
I stood hearing words I should not.
The voice spoke with a mouthful of gravel,
Scraping against my eardrums
It’s done, they’re both dead.
I felt as if I had been dropped into a vat of starch.
My body stiffened; my hand glued to the receiver.
I now know the location of the buried bodies,
Not far from where I stand.
Whoever it was on the other end, hung up.
I was left listening to the buzzing sound of angry bees.
Words cannot describe the fear running through my veins…

© Anita Dawes 2021

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