too many miles
stretch between our two kitchens
i dial slow nine
let the rotary sigh spin
your voice arrives
crackled like warm vinyl
i mail a smile
pressed in a small square photo
sun on my cheek
pale and a little crooked
wait till we meet
i’ll kiss the top of your head
soft as a stamp
still tasting envelope glue
do we dare walk
to the hush at the line’s end?
i’ll pack cold rice
into a plaid metal tin
then we’ll just sit
breathing the same quiet room
our strange record
spins wobbly lullabies
all i need is
the tiny bulb on your phone
glow steady green
like a night-light for my heart
miles of black cord
cannot tangle the small yes
we keep whispered
into plastic receivers
