Editor back-issues, poetry

Two nights after the breakupDrunkI dial your number wrongSuddenly, through fate and pulsesTwitches through airI am connected to a stranger, youMinus one number, or maybe twoTransverse.Your name sloshes around, lulls out of my mouthHalf-cockedLoose on my misshapen tongueEven after hearing an older woman answerI carry on talking to you.She doesn’t hang up, doesn’t break our connectionAnd in her reply there…

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