says the message on your screen
when I interrupt our call to take another.
Talking or holding: you can’t do both,
even in a world whose far reaches
no longer exceed our grasp.
On the other side of the ocean, I read Resume.
When we do, you tell me laughing
you almost miss being held.
Five hours apart, yet we share a single present,
speaking, listening, from one infinitesimal
moment to the next: we hold.
See Rachel’s photographic response, “Hope and Anchor.”
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Dog Logic
- The Colors of Noise
- Crossing Wales
- Memo from the CEO of Little Prince, Inc.
- Poems to be shaved into the hair of the author’s back
- Living in Analog
- Organ Meats: A Primer
- Walking Weather
- Beach Glass
- Tree Without Birds
- The Captain’s Reverses
- The Fullness of Time
- Reading the Icelandic Sagas
- Hit the Lights
- Vagina Dialogue
- Old Norse Family Values
- On Hold
- Looking for the Reader
- The conversation continues: two videopoems