& 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.