Slam the Phone

I love the absence of you: pure invisibility; but I feel the essence
Of you: both grit and pain, and something fey; and every fruit the
Urn of thought; and every light, an earth of words; and feel the
River: a sea of aches; and swim the Ghost: a soul to print; and

Rope a thought—a thought to walk; and love the pain—a pain to
Stalk; and tether hope—a carnal wraith: a wealth of doves—the
Love of faith. And drift the banks—a bank to drift; and ever live—
The wings of rift; and thirst the fruits—the roots of life; and

Nurse a soul—to forge the flight; and hearts to flame—the flame of
Hearts: a risen wall: the fall of sparks; and self to love—the love
Of self: a pool of pain: a pleat of kelp; and yearn to live—a life to
Yearn: the grounds of rain: a flame to burn; and ever die—the
Wrath of love; and ever reel—the tides of love; and soon forgive—
A vision sewn; and hear the heart—and slam the phone.