Lost it in suburban park

Red phone booth where the darkness hides it’s lonely islands cry outside 
ransom paid by the moon again
smother night
again not died
trembling hands
why turn your palms to me
earthly rusted nail
glimpsed through pages turned 
so silent so captured
mornings rustic kick
bleached labels March 
and knuckle raw these eyes which swore
alignment in causations 
worded breath
safe in that shaded step
message sought
blessed