A Date in Winter
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The Phone Call
Their tombstones are as common
as pavement slabs up town,
so how could I be that solemn
seeing another put down?
Time too winnows me thin
and shakes me away – yes every atom
flies through the sieve of my skin –
skin which will stretch to oblivion.
Ah, but surprise! I was flesh and bone
and why I lived – you never said,
yet your voice (like over the phone)
is this incantation to raise the dead.