Eternity Tree

In limbo, the first circle, daylight fades as I navigate a phone tree, on and off hold, holding the receiver to my aching ear as I cancel my cable service. The connection is scratchy, voices emerging and plummeting in the murk, interrupting the meandering melodies that crackle through to remind me where I am. Transferred again, I turn my head: I see a clock with shaky hands inching forward and backward, teaching me eternity. Drained now of blood, my hand grows numb as the music returns.

(Appeared in Door is a Jar Literary Magazine. Dec. 2022.)

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