Voices on the Wind
by Mary E. Lux
The last message from you
on the answering machine
is a one-liner in your deep voice.
Your use of my name
sounds in my depths
like the strokes from a shipís bell
on a submerged hulk,
swaying on the edge of an ocean trench
in the currents circling the globe.
Itís a ringing unheard by others--
the sound of a myth, mine and yours only,
that of Ruth and Naomi.
Its tones excavate memories;
their harmonics stir again
certain ecstasies and cutting griefs,
but itís worth the music of such
so Iím keeping the tape from ďEraseĒ
for a whole year at least,
and the ship from tipping over the brink