DEATH Poem: Kaddish For Answering Machines, by Izzy Maxson

There is a particular cadence to the sound of a voice crying out for their lost dog to come home
A mournful, drawn out plead
Only dogs though, when a cat vanishes one sits alone, hoping
And when someone’s child becomes a victim of the potential unthinkable
And everyone’s phones all start buzzing, for an amber alert, same as a killer storm
No one rushes out to yell the child’s name, like Venetian gondoliers or so I’ve heard
Here is where the human air raid siren makes its presence known
Sometimes it’s the whole family, usually just the mothers
On hot Sunday afternoons in October, in a near religious monotone
It’s always a two-syllable name, rising and falling, a foghorn tonality
As if all for the same animal over a period of decades
For dogs alone, they put their voices, begging to the wind

Here though, a message plays on a loop
In a room with only electronic lighting
Until the tape runs out, or the power goes
An artifact of an older world, blinking on life support, as a limited reminder

Author: poetryfest

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