Jason Fraley

Letter to Distance

You give me little reason to open the doors, to reconnect
the telephone. Wire have not brought the world
closer. My voice always returns hollow.
I slit the blinds -- fissures of light remind me
of the woman who raised her hair in red chopsticks.
We will not meet until every city is renamed
Alexandria. You are a body refusing burial.
I will attempt to circumvent you by finding
the unnamed routes furthest north, those beneath ice.

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