& we could shuttle down

to the dead to see

what meant the listeners

to see which bramble

of thought could invite us

to tangle the phone wires together,

fixing a switch of cord

some tape & a weapon in one hand,

a glass of limeade in the other.

Said aloud that I am coming by train car

to visit with the brothers in your lung.

So if you are not home

when I arrive then may the moon grow

into my chest & I’ll return

through the clapboard walls

back into the muck from which I rose.