You phone from another country,
I can’t remember where or why
you’re calling. I can’t hear
what you’re saying
until I soon realise
you’re explaining yourself
or more specifically
your absence. Then my room
becomes another, familiar
yet far from where I should be.
A noise keeps coming,
a noise that makes me tense
my shoulders as if something
is about to fall on either
one of us. You crackle
on the other end of the line,
your voice changing into one
that isn’t yours. And then
your body goes too, from
right before me, subdued
by the din that is all
of a sudden everywhere.
What city are you in,
I hear myself saying.
I almost know, I almost feel
the answer rise to my lips,
the word that will fix what
is broken here. I can’t make
my mind reach it. I say your name
instead and suddenly
you’re gone, quick as a
guillotine the line goes dead,
and the silence rings in my ear
like a punishment.
From Before You, her new collection, published by Dedalus Press