in the car my legs wedged under the steering wheel

parked out of the heat though it still coaxes

perspiration from behind my knees I hold phone

to ear like prayer beads to lips asking

“how was your morning” and “did you eat” and you

insert my name as much as you can into

your sentences, bringing your voice close until I can

almost see your black t-shirt feel its texture

we settle deep into each other’s voices we

wear the conversation so close to our skin we

generate heat from within we drop our voices

and words fall like prayer beads from our lips

Reprinted from California Quarterly, 2020