i stopped answering your
calls a month ago
(72 missed calls)
and i wonder just how many
of those i needed to hear. i
wonder if you still call to
just to hear my voicemail and i
wonder if, after the eighth
ring, you hear my absence
or just the silence. i dreamt last
night of you, knelt down
on the damp riverbank soil,
desperately trying to wash my
poetry off your hands. when you
look at our pictures, do you still
smile or is that just me?