Operating Dixie cups

Operating Dixie Cups

two in the morning
is a space

where your
voice lingers through
the sounds of the heater’s
warm hum

and the dog’s rhythmic breathing.

The birds are asleep
at two in the morning

but the owl is awake

translating your words with
an eastern winter’s air

and the words make their way
beneath millions of stars

over thousands of dead leaves
around hundreds of naked trees

through the one small crack in
the black pane of
my only bedroom window

to land as an intact conversation on my ear.

Two in the morning is the round black record caught beneath

the needle moving only from the
beginning to the end and back
to the beginning

of the song that is the tone
of your voice lulling
my words back to you

a telegraph operated by children separated by one thin

string and two dixie cups.

J.Ann.

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