why I do not answer the phone

I do not
answer the phone any

bad news is better off to a face,
to the wicked curve
of his new eyes

and he would
not be calling me. so it
rings. sometimes

another person will pick up the phone
sometimes it will just ring and I will be
reading, I will be standing by the windows,
watching the quickened ducks landing
in the

morass of cloudy water just down
the road, they are cold this time of
year, but

they seem contented,
straining the hoar-frosted
water for summer plantain
that still clings in stagnant patches-

and the phone rings-
unless someone else

he would not be standing by the door in
november. he would not be alone
out doors in the russet of november, the
ringing wind throwing back his

open jacket-

I would stand
beside the cold
window rather
than the phone-

which I will not answer anymore.