what secrets

do the telephone wires know about you that i don’t?

they hang heavy like drapes

drooping under the weight of my suspicions

whose voice is on the other end?

For one moment in time

what we created had a heartbeat

We don’t need to hold it in our hands

to know it was real

Let moss grow in place of my nail beds

Let roots intertwine into the scalp of my hair

In the spring

May buds bloom from my eyelids