Fall 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1991 |

Busy Signals

I just tried to call long distance, tomorrow a conversation, or two, away. With an ear boxed by a windowpane, I'm listening for the sun, that bluesshouter, delta belter, loud enough, I hope, to block out this whispering: a memory and an anniversary crisscrossing a calendar date, x squared, square Xed. It was innocence and hubris that made us deaf to our sentence, prolonged in the dumb stutter of Amerik-k-ka, a nation of alienslike us mere Americans drowned out by the clamor of all Americans at crosspurposes with America. I'm listening for the first notes toward a . . . I hear the traffic report of the Doppler effect.

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