TELEPHONE LINE 7

Randall, Jill, Mira, Sasha, Patrick

RANDALL

The Song

JILL

The Artwork

MIRA

The Movement

SASHA

The Writing

ODE TO THE GREEN LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH MY WINDOW EVERY AFTERNOON


The green light comes through the window.
I unpeel the banana. Life is a seesaw. I want to be touched.
To be picked up and placed gently down into August.
Instead, the slow rocking of another hour.
Instead, I peel off the doll and take care of it.
Voices turning in my hands. Lean in.
Prune the greening of days accounting.

I squat to hug the potted plants. 

I feel another version of myself
pushing me on this swing.

The night disappears from my palm. Lean out. 

I let loneliness sit in my lap. I wake
to the tick-tocked refrain of I am here, I am here.

PATRICK

The Film

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