Shorter works

A beckoning phone

I am a ripple in the telephone line
I wander the planet unburdened by comfort

I find your ear by mistake
And crackle like suppressed anticipation

Your heart becomes precariously burdened
And beckons me to smother it in a mountainous cardigan

I squirm in your ear as an amazed fish landed
Singing of joy beyond the bravest of dreams

We walk, crippled by comfort
We crawl, as a body-blow received
We stand and run and find we cannot move
We suffocate the baby of our dreams
We plot the downfall of daylight
But the sun rises—

Your ears are stripped of skin
As a naked board peeled dry by a blazing stare

And my voice shines whiter than acid
As my sound diminishes

And I return to ghostly flight
Along the transparent cables of communal thought
As aching driftwood sucked back by an eager tide.