uncorrected proofs

the mirrors and the unacknowledged nods

dial tones and license plates

the words you didn't choose

everything the day's too small to hold spills on to the dusk

and shorts the evening's fuse

so you fumble for a voice and sing "happy birthday"



read it to yourself again

the stories always end the same

she can't stay and he won't run

and fear is where they're calling from



staunch the blood from countless tiny cuts

we're all out of bandages

the heaters rattle taunt

sifting through translucent shards of glass

looking for a filament that lit the life you want

so you fumble for the phone, grasp the cord and pull



will your readership complain

the stories always end the same

he can't stay and she won't run

and fear is where they're calling from

afraid is where you're calling from

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