IF YOU HADN’T CALLED
BY JANE COLLINS
I wouldn’t know
your voice feels like
sunlight, so warm.
The sound spilled
over my skin,
I felt my cells
settle in that light,
all the particles
of my self letting go
and floating down
toward the surface
of your words.
But you won’t be
here for weeks,
so I can’t meet
your eyes, can’t touch
your skin. I know
desire is suffering,
but I want this
longing. I’ll wait
for you, tasting
this silence.
Gyroscope Review 16-4
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