Intimations, Remediated

Intimations, Remediated

A rotary phone
could save us

each spring-held
thought

perfected, revised

before it is slung
ticking into orbit.

A phone
to hook bird-like
and pace problems
away

to nuzzle
streetside

or to slam
one's loneliness
into a smoky room.

Now is almost
then, this there:

credits calm
as escalating guests
climb the screen,

cash tips garnish
the dining slabs.

One hand

shy as a spider

stalked its mate
over this terrain

having pulled
the alphabet in threes
carefully round

with the ash-tip
creeping,

the one-fanged
stylus
committed to its groove.