ARE YOU STILL THERE?

there are sixty-five miles

of telephone wire

between acoma

                     and albuquerque

i dial the number

and listen for the sound

of his low voice

                     on the other side

hello

is a gentle motion of a western wind

cradling tiny purple flowers

that grow near the road

                                    toward laguna

i smell them

as i near the rio puerco bridge

my voice stumbles

returning over sandstone

                  as it passes the canoncito exit

i have missed you he says

the rhythm circles the curve

of mesita cliffs

                     to meet me

but my voice is caught

shredded on a barbed wire fence

at the side of the road

and flutters soundless

in the wind