establishing a room

Been searching my poetry bookshelves for other volumes, which I've had for a while, but have never actually blipped from ...

... so here's a Maurice Riordan poem, taken from his pictured inaugural collection, first published in 1995:


Last Call

Home late, his house asleep, a man goes to the phone,
and from habit, expecting nothing, touches the Recall.
But this time he tenses to hear the electronic scramble,
the pause before the lottery digits fall into place.
At the other end, sure enough, he hears a male voice,
no one he recognizes, repeating Hello, hello?
He can hear background piano, Chopin or John Field,
establishing a room, smoke-filled, larger than his,
where wine in a discarded glass is losing its chill,
while the voice continues, good-humoured, persuasive:
Come on, say something. He tries to picture a face, a hand,
to fit the voice, still in his ear, still going on, Last chance . . .
He hangs up, his own hand shaking with intimacy.

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Maurice Riordan (1953 - )

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