My body has
been calling his estranged friend for 24
the line is always
One day, a timid
child’s voice whispers, “hello?”
from the other side of eternity.
my body doesn’t know what to say;
how to respond.
The Real Self is on the line, and he
has waited so long to talk to someone. He’s been alone in the room of perpetual midnight, the phone off the hook, making up
stories about ghost friends in the static
of the television.
Now that contact is made,
the sublime and empty silence feels
There’s nothing to talk about: only
and time, can remedy a life that
never was. A seed which has
been underground, waiting to germinate until
this fire came and burned it all