The Last Transmission (Honeybee)

Cup my hands to the headphones,
close my eyes, hold my breath,
lean across the table,
over the tundra into the night.
«Oh, Honeybee, please answer me.
You’ve left me la-la-la-la-la-la-low.
Oh, Honeybee, please answer me.
You’ve left me low.»
This is the last transmission
from the final outpost:
«Come back Appaloosa, this is Palomino.»
Cup my hands to the headphones,
close my eyes, hold my breath,
lean across the table,
over the tundra into the night…
to hear your ticks and pings,
shifting in your seat,
bristling of your beard,
scuffling of your feet under the table,
your swallows, your measured songbird sips.
My query cuts the night,
it jags, it skips from radio towers
that prick the horizon.
You’re/your heavy hesitation;
static on the wires.
And at the edge of the cavern
I stab into the black but only,
«la, la, la, la, la"answered me back.
«Oh, Honeybee, please answer me.
You’ve left me la low.»
This is the last transmission
from the final outpost:
«Come back Appaloosa, this is Palomino.»
This is the last transmission
from the final outpost:
«Come back, Little Shaver, this is Tangelo»
It’s not words I’d like to put in your mouth
but if only words I could put in your mouth,
it would be, «88's and all the good numbers»
and «L"-words and «la"-words
and lazy, looping cursive,
and «m-i-s-s-i…»
and «all the threes to you»,
crooked letter-o-sorry,
crooked letter-o-through.
And at the edge of the cavern,
I stab into the black but only…
answered me back.