you rasp nonsense to me
carried by cords woven with IV's, other tethers
ICU telephone, intense, one way to sound you
over moon miles of long, long distance
tho' I've been calling to you at night, send the zikkr down
in my own backyard, next to the hydrangia, just south of Buddha's knee
put my mouth to the earth as I thrash all of this at the only thing large enough to hold it
if you spark your ignition
you know that wave carries to Jupiter and back
before you can say Jack-
rabbit
if starting a car is a celestial event
then my song thrummed against
these acacia roots can relay through
a collaboration of species, from tree
to rhizone to languid worm
(who are all pulse anyway),
through veins of quartz lodged in the mountains
between us, thru tendrils of the anenome
in the weakened bay below your window,
and finally to the water in the cup
by your bed
put the phone down and drink,
and every cell of your body will recognize
my voice as your own, calling
the sound of your true and hidden name.
these words between us, born of tired lineage of longing,
sadness inherited by diggers and orphans
wails and pipe drones, a keening for keening
they were mistaken
that thrum pulse in your chest, your temple,
your last kidney, is your answer to this
thrumming earth, resonates
with the conduction of this,
just love
it's just love naming itself
now is the time for daughters to lullaby fathers
in a dream you dance, unburdened, across shallow water
Eilish Nagle
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