Telephone

Sometimes the heart goes square, a room beneath 

The sea. Fluorescent lights, acoustic tile,

A table, chairs. An empty room, a phone 

On the floor, a rotary phone with dust and heft.

It's ringing like it's Judgement Day, all brassy.

And who is calling? Who will answer this?

The bells are bouncing all around the room,

Like some agreement's struck: the sky forgets

The sea. The birds forget the earth. The waves

Forget the moon. The kiss forgets the teeth.

Magnificent failure, this system of exchange.

The ringing rings for silent bugbears all

By calling down the stars. O, hellions!

Your love will be the love they give you, here

Inside the flitting chimes. Let ring. And steer

The spinning dial home. Transform, augment.

Your song is lifting me, O call, O sing.

Your song begins in earnest. Call them near,

Call down the stars, for we are no one now.

What once was doom is now the salty blood

Of possibility. Hear them ring, the bells

Of possible lives, the gongs that heard the squaring

Of a heart and said no more. Tonight, we sing.