Author:  jat sapphire
Contact:  [email protected]

Poem.  I bet you can guess who's speaking, but as he is not named there is no copyright problem.
 
 

To an Answering Machine in California
from a Telephone in Minnesota
 

These steel days
are fences.  Trees
cased in crystal,
poles crusted
white, each roof
molting

These loud nights
push the windows,
squeeze the walls.
I think of crows
unable to fly,
feet welded
to wires

They can't
even fall.  I can't
call back.  My words
won't push through
this long New Year's
Ice.
 

*End*

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