"Walt Whitman's Answering Service" by Philip Dacey

I'm still enjoying this remarkably versatile poet (see previous post), author of The Mystery of Max Schmitt: Poems on the Life and Work of Thomas Eakins (Turning Point Books, 2004). His homepage is http://philipdacey.com.

PhilipDacey on Whitman: An Interview and Four New Poems 

Innisfree Journal poems and comments about the poet.

Walt Whitman's Answering Service

Poet Philip Dacey

Who calls here,

hankering, gross, mystical, nude?

Did you expect to find me at home?

Then you do not know me.

I am never at home.

I am always on the road.

All roads lead to the telephone;

wherever you go, on or off

the road, a telephone wire

sings beside you.

I knew you would call.

Everyone does,

in his or her own way.

All the wrong numbers you dial

are meant for me,

are the attempts of your better self

to make the call

you are afraid to make.

If you would have me know who you are,

leave no name or number,

simply give to this line

the mist of your breath

and I will recognize you.

I will call you back

unless you wait by the phone

for me to call you back.

Be confident, but be warned:

my voice could be disguised

as anything, anything.

If you love me,

if you truly wish to get through to me,

you will hang up

at the sound of the tone

and dial your own number.

If the line is busy

or no one answers,

consider yourself lucky,

you can always call again.

If the line is out of order,

remember, you are the only repairman.

If the line has been disconnected,

remember, the only phone company

is yourself.