Disconnected

I awake in the gloom of a shadowed bedroom,
a strange howl is disturbing my psyche,
a mewling miaow that could raise an eyebrow
Gets me up out of bed in my nightie.

The cat is awake and there is no mistake
That she’s making a terrible groan
And I have to act fast for she’s breathing her last
So I must call the vet on the phone.

I switch on the light, unprepared for the sight
of a phone that has just turned to jelly.
And my mobile would serve but I haven’t the nerve
while it’s writhing like cold vermicelli.

Up the stairs I now creep to the man still asleep
who’s so still that I think he is dead..
I can use the handset, call the doctor or vet
from the phone that is close to the bed.

I shake and I shiver, I’m all of a quiver
to dial I’m really not able.
For the phone, without trying, is fast liquefying,
and dripping all over the table.

To the kitchen I race, where a call I can place
From a phone in a ordered location.
But all hope is eroded, the phone has exploded
And set off a wild conflagration.

And now I’m afraid that the brave fire brigade
Must be first on my list for a call.
Semaphore comes to mind but I really can’t find
any flags, and I cannot recall—

where the code book is kept and I’m very upset
I am screaming and wading through sand.
But the man Bless his heart, wakes me up with a start
And a masterful pat of his hand.

Now the phone by the bed shows a light that is red
With a message it must introduce.
My resistance is low so I give it a go,
It say’s, ‘This phone is now out of use.’