Please Hold

I just spent one hour
And five minutes on hold

It couldn’t be helped,
It was something that I had to do,
Or I’d have been in bad shape
For weeks to come

I sat and listened to that
Goddamned hold message
For an hour and five minutes

They repeated it
Every twenty seconds;
I counted

“We’re sorry, but all of our agents
“Are busy assisting other customers.
“Please hold and we’ll be with you
“As soon as possible.
“There are currently more than
“Three callers ahead of you.”

I put my phone
On the ‘speaker’ setting,
And laid it on my belly

I was smart and plugged it
Into the charger,
Figured I would
Kill a few birds with one piece
Of terminal boredom

I added another layer of
Multitasking to my
Very minor ordeal

I read Bukowski’s
Love is a Dog from Hell
While I waited

Forty minutes in…

It was frequently difficult
To concentrate, with that
Stupid message, every
Twenty seconds—“We’re just a
“Tiny bit sorry…
“All of our agents are
“Pretending to be busy, so we
“Can feel like we’re important,
“And squeeze a few more bucks out,
“By not paying any more staff than
“We absolutely have to.
“There are three callers ahead of you.”

But the breaks in my focus,
They gave me an excuse to jump back
Several lines and reread what I
Had just read, to make sure that I
Hadn’t missed anything

The boredom,
The stupid interruptions,
The longing for a life that is not
A prisoner of circumstance,
A slave to bureaucracies,
To be able to do something else…
Any fucking thing that is something
Other than this stupid shit…

“We’re sorry, but all of our agents
“Are playing solitaire and circle jerk.
“Please hold onto your sanity…
“Or don’t; we could all use a good laugh.
“There are currently
“Two callers ahead of you…
“We think. We could be wrong. [Shrugs.]
“Who the fuck knows, really?
“We’re not fucking philosophers.”

It went well with the poetry,
It matched Chuck’s experience
Of life

Always waiting
Waiting on life to just
Come off it, already

Forty-five minutes

“We’re sorry, but all of our agents
“Are placing bets on horses,
“Arguing with whores,
“Getting drunk and feeling lonely,
“Feeling happy, angry, nothing at all.
“Anything but assisting customers.
“Please hold and we’ll be
“Finished shitting as soon as possible.
“There is one caller ahead of you.”

Maybe that last part was Charles
Talking to me,

I forget

I do know that he said
(And I’m paraphrasing here,
Paraphrasing wildlyspeculatively,
Because ol’ drunk Chuck said
That’s the only way to do anything)

He said that we’re all sitting here,
Knowing, knowing that life,
The real life, is available, out there,
If only the small-minded
Would get out of the way,
And let the rest of us have it

We’re not entitled to it,
We realize that;
No one is entitled to
Anything

But the rich, the powerful,
And the boorish, dreary,
Unimaginative oafs,
They seem to have
All the access
To all the best stuff

But they’re too greedy,
Too fearful, too lacking in vision
To step aside and let someone else
Have a crack at the good stuff;
They feel they never have enough,
Or that only they can
Handle it all properly

And so,

We

Wait

And

We

Wait

Some

More

But I got it done, ⠀
The thing⠀

And now, I can
Wait⠀

On something else


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell

A Collage of Chimeras and Phantasms, by Kevin Trent Boswell, available on Amazon
Available on Amazon, 216 pages

I Know It’s Frustrating

I know you’re angry; I don’t blame you
It feels like American freedom is spent
But please try to remember that it’s illegal
To talk about killing the president

I know it’s hard watching these racists;
To a coward, sadist, false king, they bent
But it’s still a crime to make idle threats
About murdering the stupid president

I don’t ever want you to get locked up
So, don’t do something you’ll later lament
Don’t even jokingly say to someone
That you’re planning to kill the president

Seriously, don’t do it. No, really… don’t.


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

Fire God

If they decide that you’re made of fire,
Pristine, glorious, and bright
Then they will insist that you burn
So that you may offer them light

If they believe that you are perfect,
And with you, they cannot compete,
They’ll make you a god, a dying one
To warm themselves by your heat

If you represent in their minds
Something they could never become,
They will set you ablaze in the night;
To the flames, watch you succumb


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

slurpishly

radial beams
smile sears through
the morass of tedious
normalcy

similar to a sizzling steak
on the grill in the backyard

good feelings spray out
like the water from a
rotating yard sprinkler

hand me a straw
and let me sip
this sugary cocktail
of swirling girlish charm

easy to drink

drunk on the polarity
of what she is
and what I am not


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

like a house of

like a game of
Jenga, or Operation

like the careful restructuring
of a house of cards

how to
delicately slide
the desired shape

out of its current position
and into the one
I choose?

it’s absolutely essential
to have a steady hand,
to avoid upsetting the harmony

must not startle,
or cause alarm

she is nestled ⠀
comfortably
into her little nook, ⠀
her home

if it is indeed possible that
she might be moved by me…

then I must proceed
ever so gently, deftly,
with the greatest
of charm and tact

otherwise, the whole structure
could come tumbling

down

one must be debonair,
unhurried, poised, skilled,
perhaps even a bit
devil-may-care

for a handler of cards,
the appeal of the card
is what strength she brings to his hand

does she make for a
weak pair of twos?

or does she complete his straight flush?

does she make him look and feel
like the winner of the game?

but the card herself,
she is far more impressed
by the manner in which
an adroit dealer is able to
adeptly and confidently ⠀
handle her

expertly positioning her
without her necessarily
noticing

she wants to feel
safely controlled,
lovingly held,
as a crowning
symbol of
fulfillment
and fruition

but if the Queen of Hearts
is yielding…

if she offers some assistance,
some small help
in wiggling her out
of that lonely position
between the Three of Clubs
and the Four of Spades,
then there’s hope

and I will keep that card
always

up under my sleeve,
right next to my skin


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell