Lover On the Phone

“Hello,” she says, and I can hear her hair
Brush fragrantly across the phone, just where
her fingers close upon the plastic case
I hear “hello,” and long for her embrace
Her fingers should be closed upon my skin
Her fragrant hair should sense what I’d begin
Then warmly, I would let her say “hello”
And move above as she moved on, below
I hold the phone to hear her tender voice
because my only choice is not a choice
To live in silence seems like living death
But on the phone I hear her heaving breath
If I could have my lover here, her hair
would have no place to go without my care.

Leave a Reply