See Through

Excerpt from poem:

Listen to these words I’m spilling over you –
our distance makes them louder.
Am I to shout,
shall I wait, wait for the phone to ring ?
And who might it be,
is some cascade expected to bring forth morning
exulting happiness ?
What of lost promises.. . .
our poetry, our beatitudes,
our-only secrets where sand castles formed.
Are they not retrievable?

O the vapor of things; things that were supposed to last
into protection,
into booklets,
into simple songs