Land line and answering machine are gone. I will never hear you again answer the business line.. that line that was your wire to your mother – years of arguments and conversations. That line is gone. Anxiety swept over me knowing that it was irrevocable and finished.
On the Winter Solstice I deleted your voicemail message from the hospital. What good is a slurred version of the sick and confounded you trying to tell me what to buy and make for you… chicken piard – which you couldn’t eat. All the while me drinking wine in your hospital room. No – no need to replay that over and over again to rend my garments and punish myself and you. Fini.
I’m choosing what to keep. It makes me feel alone – which I am. Better to have the whirls of your laughing, teasing voice enveloping me and bringing me up out of this hole.
You are not out there – you are in my cells. Multiplying. I just need to listen to be united with you.