Cold Caller | By Simon Alderwick

he phoned me, the scammer, and said

he would never forget

his mother's words—

as she gives him everything he might

ever own:

you'll

grow into it.

by the sound of his voice

he had a way to go.

but, I know and suspect

it's all part of the script;

so I hung up before

he could rob me.

he calls me daily.

prerecorded but I have a thing for

analog warmth.

I let the phone ring four times.

my own mother said play

hard to get.

picking up, I never know for sure

until I hear the silence.

hear the click.

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Simon Alderwick is a poet from London, UK. His work has recently appeared in the Adriatic, Dust, the Daily Drunk, Near Window, Quince and Green Ink. He is on Twitter @SimonAlderwick