is the first thing i hear 

when the sun strikes the sky

slices clean through the fog 

flush against my neck

a lukewarm track

Press record

i can’t endure how

my voice from another mouth

echos foreign and unintelligible

i know only to 

regurgitate words from your throat

Press hold

on the tip of my tongue

against the roof of your mouth

your thoughts 

injected into my bones

a familiar touch

Press pause

synchronized pulses beneath a ribcage

silence ties a slipknot that

cinches us taut around our collars 

one you cannot 

crawl out of 

Hang up 

let the handset fall to the floor

let our automated voice

ring its lifeless jingle

again and

again