International roaming made it too expensive to call,
but life was too cheap for me
not
to roam.
Please understand,
my mouth was full of salt and red earth,
and with a ragged knife,
I made a small cut and the green wept from my veins.
I dreamt about you the night you died,
your back no longer hunched,
youth’s vigour returned for a breath
into empty lungs.
And a decade has passed, Alec,
yet I’ve never been to where you rest
with my roots
in the dirt of my soul,
forgive me.
I call your old number,
my mind internationally roaming:
connection lost,
endless dial tone.