So Strange By Lori Yamamoto

too many miles stretch between our two kitchens i dial slow nine let the rotary sigh spin your voice arrives crackled like warm vinyl i mail a smile pressed in a small square photo sun on my cheek pale and a little crooked wait till we meet i’ll kiss the top of your head soft as a stamp still tasting envelope glue do we dare walk to the hush at the line’s end? i’ll pack cold rice into a plaid metal tin then we’ll just sit breathing the same quiet room our strange record spins wobbly lullabies all i need is the tiny bulb on your phone glow steady green like a night-light for my heart miles of black cord cannot tangle the small yes we keep whispered into plastic receivers