Conference Call

by Ian Duncan Smith

It was a flaming good idea —
A conference call
To last more than a minute,
A link-up with the States
To save emails, air miles,
Take-off and landing.
The throughput would be immense.

But all they had
Was a dialling tone,
A distant spitting,
And then their own
Fire alarm.

In the car park
A fireball
Lifted off a car roof,
And someone ended it all.
There was nothing
Anyone could do.

Back inside
A voice on the phone said:
“Caller you’re through.”