I had a closet that was soundproof growing up
I used to crawl inside and perch on top of a mound of clothes
There I dialed a random number once
And told them all my secrets
On an answering machine that never hung up
I swear I heard someone listening
The air was pregnant with
Rosebuds
The petals of
Ripe
Imagination
So I created poems and gave them to
the child
Who sat in the corner of the call
This is real
I said into the phone
And no one said it wasn’t
So I told them I was not afraid to die
And it was quiet
So I told whoever was listening that
I loved them
Because we barely take the time to stop and love
To stop and call
I’m still waiting for my brother’s voice
To appear over the phone
And ask me how im doing
The warmth between us has grown cold and there’s icebergs creeping
Up in the depth of my confusion
Someone once told me love was blind
But im still trying to find you in the darkness
Find you on our old mountain walks
in our
Endless talks
He gave me piggy back rides
Letting me carve my secrets into the bark on his back
Even though he couldn’t see them or read them ever again
He used to be a sail
Letting me blow endless winds
Until my tears created rivers and
I built a boat with him
And sailed across
To the other side
where my cheeks were dry
I’ve heard that 90 percent of human interaction is non-verbal
so
ill wonder where his fingers are
that aren’t dialing 314 9770
there must be shrapnel in his back that replaces the spine that once made him a man
so ill dial until my
fingers find the right combination
of a familiar voice
and then ill tell them all my secrets
until moss grows on top of us
and we’re old
much higher up
on a mountain somewhere
looking back from where we came from.
From his little bedroom painted light blue
Converted from a closet with a round window
It was his little sea cabin in the house
Still holding all of our secrets.
Originally written/ performed as a spoken word piece