CarrollBlog 4.25

Telemarketer

by Brett Garcia Myhren

"I'm reading on the couch

when she calls, asks for me by name.

I smile at her scripted intimacy,

imagine her cubicle with photos of pets,

the long bend of light

on her lacquered nails.

"Listen to this," I reply,

"David kissed the soft inner banks

of women's thighs."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, there's more," I say,

"Thighs like loamy earth

that cup the rivers, or lilies

blooming in rose and mint."

"Is this a bad time for you, sir?"

"Is it for you?