Write love letters to the bones you've starved
The skin plump with grief is an envelope
A messenger, a telephone wire to the moon so
Don’t stand startled when she calls you
I have taught her your name
It is on speed dial
It is painted on the walls of her womb
Every night she cradles you in the duvet of her city
Telephone in her hand the
Sour taste of rejection screaming, wishing
You’d answer the ******* phone