video game song
the birds spoke dial tones
all through the morning
& i thought "i should call you."
instead, i put on my headphones
& pretended the world wasn't
turning to pudding. i took a walk
& ambling along a dog opened
it's mouth to talk to me even though
clearly i was trying to be alone.
sometimes i walk around with a shovel
in case i need to dig myself
a burrow of aloneness. not yet, robin, not yet.
instead, i listened to the dog who said
"it looks like rain" over and over.
i find only my own repetition tolerable.
the cats were barking. the children
chattered like squirrels. i never trusted
our parallel nature. how my house
had gone so many years without
shrieking. who doesn't have a scream
waiting in them after all these years?
i decided my voice was now
a purse. i filled it with coins & phone calls
i could no longer make. a duck call.
a deer whisper. i wanted you here
so that i could apologize in a language
neither of us could understand.
it is probably best done like that.
at a certain point all words are just
kinds of water. frost on the window.
dew on the grass. i went up the mountain
insearch of a lion. needed to hear
what she might sound like.
reached her lair, stepping over the bones.
she had your voice. just like
i thought she would. i said, "i should
call you." she said, like you did,
"i just can't do this. i can't."