It sowed a summery seed
her voice across
the gap
of lifetimes, tape
and dreams

crackled in my
subconscious, sounding
both how I knew it would
and also like nothing
heard before
I implore
her, speak to me
she

was a spirit,
so I sense,
who struck out on adventure
who laughed freely and

after blinking
my eyes to clear the haze
up to my ceiling
I allowed an alternate reality
to flood my vision—she,
coming up to me,
in our home
she, standing at the old stove
with him,
never sold
she, family dinners
all the paths that have diverged

some sparkling
some bleak

superseded by her
laugh
and the cold hard crackle of
her whiplash condemnations
so I’m told

for when I look at pictures I can
hear her,
really hear her
and I don’t believe I’m wrong
and I don’t believe there’s nothing
floating about
to get my greedy hands on
to plug
into the place of

answer, as I recently realized
this was something
I wanted to need
for her to be brought back
into motion
magic right in front of me

private collection
of a moment of being
eerie

is what it'd be
but I can see
myself, sitting
legs spindled beneath
leaning toward the screen
poised to catch a fistful of background
mumbling

and I can hear her,
really hear her
sometimes
as in sleep
and even there she wasn't there.

It sowed a summery seed.