a moment of silence
the phone rings, you
are answering it
there is never time enough
to say hello, how are
you doing, the family
is alive, as am I, you
are walking out the
backdoor, a screen slams
onto wood, a frame you
were once a part of, where
are the candles lit, who
blew them out, silence
swallows another moment
words are perched on
the dry tongue, sullen
at the culmination.
three years and it’s
the click of the receiver
the connection running
through the wire into
the wall and the heart
is not a something
that loves any longer
operator, how much does
love weigh? a dial-tone?
a scale full of dust
collecting in my chest
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