Will this wire lead to you? And will we be healthy

And cunning? Will the flowered carpet be underfoot

And muffle the tread in any weather? Day or night?

Around the stairs and the head of the banister,

Past the woodwork into the kitchen for a drink of water.

Why do I think I spent my whole life outdoors

When all I remember are the insides of houses?

Holding and smelling the receiver, staring at the

Black wire that ran into the wall plug, and talking

To someone in another place, another time.

A dead person breathing through a wire to me

Staring past the curtains at the yard and highway,

Garage to the right. What passed for hedge,

And beyond, the cemetery where we climbed on the stones

And stood in the graves, and kissed in the dark.




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