***For my sister who’s driving home to New Hampshire tonight.
I will always answer
a late night phone call
from you because your words
are dripping with nothing,
love and even when I’m whispering
into the phone with my eyes closed
sitting on the carpet
back leaning into the bed frame,
the wind’s blowing through my window,
quiet, low brushing my hair at my bare shoulders
and you say that talking
on the phone makes you sad
because it means we’re
running long distance with words;
these are marathons of hope and
symphonies of voices
we imagine are attached to a real body
at the other end of the line.
Distance is blue flecked with copper glitter,
breath-taking, really
but it will never be
simple as together:
heads nested on pillows
hair rippled, mixing strands,
mouths singing about nothing.
