Old phones
Phones are…unconnected
disentangled
slim–
each ring a breath
through tiny speakers
without echo or depth
I want
(not mobility,
not convenience, but)
to wind my fingers
through the loops of a cord–
Get them so immersed in the coils
I lose seconds
thoughts
heartbeats
in twisting them free
Instead
I spend the time imagining
your own slim phone–
buzzing like mad on a table
in an empty room, or
in your hand–
the screen blinking up
into unresponsive eyes
Know Enough
What I’m trying to say is
when I pick up the phone
I know you don’t know my
name enough to pick up
When you say no no no
that I am wrong
I know you don’t know
enough to know
Even now even now
when you say I am an island
how do you know?
you don’t know my name
When you say you understand
you’re the keeper of me
how do you know?
you do know I love you
But that I’m afraid
is that what you know?
I should prove it
do I prove I’m scared?
I know you’re waiting
don’t I know it
but you wouldn’t know enough
to answer the phone