the house is a death trap of heat
we lay on the floor around the phone
listening for the announcement
the way i imagine they may have
congregated around a radio
in the old days

[except they wouldn’t have been on the floor]

i balance a cardboard box on my fingers
nearly drop it on someone’s head
laugh hysterically
“sh, focus!”
in a few minutes, all of us can’t stop

[except we can stop, because we have to]

they say very little
only a few words
i mean, what was i expecting
nothing more
nothing less.
it was interesting to hear. i’d asked
would it be morbid to want to listen?

[was the answer really yes?]

and so it’s over.
we go for a walk in the cold wind
at least we hope it’s cold
the last hill home is harder
pull the weeds from the garden
then go inside, half-reluctantly

[because the house is a death trap of heat]

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