Phonecall

You apologise
for the fact that
your feet find new life
as you receive
an oral pathway linking
you with your begetter.

As observer, my stationary position
offers the space and
privacy necessary for
your words to connect;
as actor, you interpret me
as being left behind – an
anchor reeling distance
as intimacy between us.

Am I your mother?

Four bombs of
metallic self-righteousness
are no match for
the explosion of
uncertainty taking place.

A battle,
hearts vs minds.

With no clear winner.