when the phone rings, I know it’s you
from the tension in my hips and I hold for a beat
and think of you on the other side
in your boxer shorts and your rumpled bed sheets
running your hands through your hair
looking like a car crash
we communicate through silence
when I pick up, you exhale and I inhaleour breathing sounds like a drum roll magnified,
repeat and repeat
the weight of silence is so loud my ears ring
I want to ask you how you are but instead
I sigh, and I imagine the way you reach for it
uncurling your arms and your body
your tapers and hollows and dips expanding
for any wish that might leave my mouth
because you cannot touch me there anymore
you can’t touch me anywhere at all
wonder then, if this is all we will have left
if the hushes that leave our lips are all that we’ll know
you are sad that words have ruined us
that when we talk we can only ever say ‘fuck you’ or ‘I love you’
that language has turned us inside out but you
can’t tell me, and you can’t leave me
so instead you call, at three in the morning
unravelling like twine, pulling at your skin
and we breathe to each other, we gasp
and all we feel is static charge







