I love you because your voice is that vibration,
a frequency incubating in a satellite, bolting
like lightning into the central chip of my brain.
To retrieve your voice mail is to understand
collapsing stars, a vibration lasting billions of
years even after death.
This vibration is why I love you and not others,
why frigate birds can return from tuna schools
in Arctic seas into millions of nests, memorizing
that one call for food above all the rest.
This satellite I phoned just to hear your voice,
then hang up, is a cold angel, ambivalent
whether it relays a code from a terrorist
planning genocide or a lover begging
forgiveness. Just think our voices which we hold
so sacred are just numbers to the angels.
Originally Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 2.
