by Elli Sol Strich
When she called the sky was a yellow-cold
static spewing over the line
hollow voice cracking
I held my breath and
traced thin wavering pavement cracks
slender summer rain that started slowly
was now thunder crying
a heaving silence-
I tried listening to her sliver voice
words plunging into my ear,
nestling into crevasses, throbbing, itching
Tried explaining to the worms writhing past
the too-clean-sky morning, her once bursting laugh
that marinated words in saffron-
no longer listening now only watching.
empty shadows on sun-stained cement,
frail dandelions wilting;
their heads bowing, bowing as if praying,
that metallic after-taste of sour yellow,
swallowing the bitterness.
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