Her voice curls around my ear,
hushed like fog. Today’s sunbeams
fail to illuminate her voice into words,
leaving me held only in sound.
I stand, a stagnant pool, unable to breathe
as around me the world goes on. The earth yawns.
I am on its edge, eyeing the gap, knowing that
the other side is oh so far away.
Her voice is the bounce of a drum and I nod
in beat, unconscious of her words, unconscious-
my silent agreement. She may mirror me
in birdlike bending, heads nodding in affirmation
of each other. But I’d never know,
the phone between us, miles,
millions of miles. I think that space is too full
of vacant words for her to hear me.
“Are you there?” She sucks air in at my ear.
I start at the whoosh of breath so close.
“You haven’t spoken in a while.”
She blows a bubble into the phone.
In between sunbeams I lean to the ground,
guarding my heart. I don’t want to go where people
have gone. The grass is too wrinkled.
I tell her I am alone.
She hums a song over the phone which
I sing, unconsciously. Together the tune holds us
close, from miles apart. I realize she is here
holding my hand.