flip phone

i don't know where
my first cell phone is--
somewhere she
stumbles--buried 
under half-finish
drawings & grade
school report cards
beneath
my bunk bed
at my parent's house--

she dangles her charger
chord-- a long 
rat tail etching 
tracks in sand--
the desert is cold
at night-- 
the moon is made from 
lantern flies who
disperse at the snap
of a twig--

there's only willow
trees-- 
each dropping
paper clips--
there she curls up
with herself &
pages through 
my words again--
all the same as i 
had left them--

i'll be five 
more minutes & 
lol & thnx &
goodbye & goodnight
& i love you &
i love you
so so so much--

she falls into
camera roll--
she watches me lilt
from picture to picture--

pushes a strand of
brown hair away from
the face of a fourteen
year old girl
in search of a body--
in search of a mirror
to crawl into--
there i am-- thin
as a paper clip--
held together 
by a phone chord--

she kisses each image--
she wants that girl
to come home to her--
to press her thumbs
on her key pad--
write letters
into night sky--
text constellations--

in the depths of
her body she keeps
these handfuls of 
photographs-- 
stacks them up-- 
shuffles images
again & again--

puts her ear to 
empty receiver as
if someone-- 
anyone
might be calling--
my voice mail 

hey this is sarah--
i guess i can't 
the phone so leave a
message after the beep
BEEEEP

& she wants to leave
a message but she
doesn't know what 
to say so she just
folds herself--
hold on tight to 
reverberations of my voice 
as they 
echo in her torso--

she yearns so
much to listen--