Bathyscape of loneliness, plunged
into the night's marine desolation,
and this unhooked handset cord uncoiling
my tenuous lifeline to you.
I listen to your laughter, preserved
in the daguerreotype of voicemail,
playing it over and over until it tints itself
sepia in my mind.
And this is what remains:
dreams of you flickering against the backdrop
of my eyelids, like the forgotten reel
of a silent movie.