STAFFER: Poetry Crisis Line, how may I help you?
CALLER: You may write me down in history
STAFFER: I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s not a service we offer. Have you tried the Library of Congress?
CALLER: With your bitter, twisted lies,
STAFFER: No, I said the Library of Congress.
CALLER: You may tread me in the very dirt
STAFFER: That’s also not a service we offer. You might try a dominatrix? Or a literary critic?
CALLER: But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
STAFFER: Like dust? Have you considered rising like bread? Bread rises.
CALLER: Does my sassiness upset you?
STAFFER: Not at all. But cakes rise. Maybe you could rise like cake?
CALLER: Why are you beset with gloom?
STAFFER: I’m not. But parfaits–no, parfaits don’t rise. But balloons do. Why not rise like a baloon?
CALLER: ‘Cause I walk
STAFFER: That’s true–balloons don’t walk. Are you going uphill? Upstairs? If you’re walking, how do you rise?
CALLER: like I’ve got oil wells / Pumping in my living room.
STAFFER: That must be tough on your carpets.
CALLER: Just like moons and like suns,
STAFFER: Yes, the sun also rises. And it can fade your carpet.
CALLER: With the certainty of tides,
STAFFER: There’s flood damage? You might consider replacing the carpet altogether.
CALLER: Just like hopes springing high,
STAFFER: Well, I’m glad to hear you’re still hopeful. But–
CALLER: Still I’ll rise.
STAFFER: I’m glad to hear it. But is the carpet worth keeping?
CALLER: Did you want to see me broken?
STAFFER: Not at all. I just–
CALLER: Bowed head and lowered eyes?
STAFFER: No, it’s just, a carpet isn’t that hard to replace. Do you have homeowner’s insurance?
CALLER: Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
STAFFER: I’ll take that as a no.
CALLER: Weakened by my soulful cries.
STAFFER: I don’t think your tears will weaken the carpet fibers much.
CALLER: Does my haughtiness offend you?
STAFFER: Not at all. I’m just trying to–
CALLER: Don’t you take it awful hard
STAFFER: Why do you keep trying to make this about me?
CALLER: ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines / Diggin’ in my own back yard.
STAFFER: How does your gold mine make it my problem? Sometimes prospecting just doesn’t pan out.
CALLER: You may shoot me with your words,
STAFFER: I’m not trying to hurt you.
CALLER: You may cut me with your eyes,
STAFFER: [fixes hair] Are you calling on Skype? Because I’m not getting any video feed on this end.
CALLER: You may kill me with your hatefulness,
STAFFER: Look, lady, if the carpet’s that precious then keep it; I’m just trying to help.
CALLER: But still, like air, I’ll rise.
STAFFER: See, that’s much better. Like air.
CALLER: Does my sexiness upset you?
STAFFER: Not at all. Though I’m not supposed to respond to it. [flirtatious laugh] I’ve gotten in trouble for that in the past.
CALLER: Does it come as a surprise / That I dance like I’ve got diamonds / At the meeting of my thighs?
STAFFER: That does surprise me. And it sounds uncomfortable. Have you tried wearing them on the soles of your shoes?
CALLER: Out of the huts
STAFFER: Is that hut with one T, like a tiny house, or with two T’s like Jabba?
CALLER: of history’s shame
STAFFER: Was he in the prequels? I thought he was just in Return of the Jedi.
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: Good idea. Best not to dwell on those movies. I hear Rogue One is good.
CALLER: Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
STAFFER: It’s supposed to be dark.
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: That’s OK, if you want to get up and leave. You don’t have to like every movie.
CALLER: I’m a black ocean,
STAFFER: Was that in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise?
CALLER: leaping and wide,
STAFFER: Uh, Pirates of Penzance?
CALLER: Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
STAFFER: I mentioned I’m not allowed to flirt back, right?
CALLER: Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
STAFFER: It’s not that, it’s just the policy here. Callers are often vulnerable and we’re not supposed to take advantage.
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: I get that, I’m just not allowed to–
CALLER: Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
STAFFER: Wonderful! Get out and face the day!
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: Yes, get out of bed first.
CALLER: Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
STAFFER: I’m not allowed to accept gifts.
CALLER: I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
STAFFER: I certainly can’t accept that.
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: Like a bird?
CALLER: I rise
STAFFER: Like a plane?
CALLER: I rise.
STAFFER: Like…I don’t know, a helicopter or something?