A dial tone is beeping in the back of my head
like the phone’s been off the hook all day.
My ear drums are loosening around the edges
once a rawhide snare
then a canvas
and then a plunge.
So all that I can hear is the far away distant rumor of my heart
like the city fires twinkling beyond the horizon
like a miniature leaf storm
playing Ring around the Rosie in the back fields
Lone night time drivers come and go like crashing waves.
I’m a thousand feet underwater
and a rudder swims in the distance.
The moon is playing tug of war with the sea
My grip is losing strength.
My senses die down around me
so that all I can hear is the ticking of my heart
like a pair of boots tumbling in the dryer in the basement.
My head is finally quiet enough
for my heart to speak its dreams.