rushes under
They say
memory increases
by absence
blossming as orchids
the lovely arms of a woman
naked elms
    Genre de femme=
I went out of my way
through sun-rosed afternoons
until your
wires cross
I can't get through
your impatient interruptions
for connection
I have to wait
stone streets
offer no outlet
recite the evocative
words to a concerto
in four parts
a silver meadow
only this eternal void
there's no one there
     to call
I can't call up