The flowers will not allow themselves
to be tricked by this day,
the sudden blaze of sun that ignites
my window and melts its crust of ice-
lights my shade—this morning when I rise
past the night terrors-
the 2 a.m. immolations
of the mind. How many explosions
will it take to find you finally
gone from me, before
the time your body’s actually set
on fire-when you are scattered
somewhere beyond loss,
your spirit adrift always
from mine? But, today
when you phone after all the dark
months of silence, the endless scenes
of hunger and singular deaths-
one switch of the dial so easily
reports it-to say
hello, how’s it going,
I remember the voice
in my heated dreams
that keeps calling
to me, and how I push and push
up through the mud
forever trying to reach it,
forever saying Yes.
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