Long-Distance Dinner

by Madeleine Corley

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after Caroline Bird’s Drawn Onward

You’re too far
from my voice. I serpentine the cord around my thumb
hoping this will cut the distance like a slice
of pie from Lola’s, open all night, where we’d get BLTs and french fries
to dip into clouds of ranch before I tell you
in the same breath as I want, first, more potato
chips, how I love you, and swallow my hands
because I’ve no clue what to do next, poker
cards out in the open this time. I’m done with bluffs,
cliffs I can barely hold onto, the precipice of this house of
empty space, a room I spackle with stars screaming high-
lighter shades at our unwanted distance, the air
weightier as the sun rises in
a different continent, aweing how we are
looking at the same moon, each from
our window
looking at the same moon. Each from
a different continent, aweing how we are
weightier as the sun rises in
lighter shades at our unwanted distance, the air
empty space, a room I spackle with stars, screaming high
cliffs I can barely hold onto, the precipice of this house of
cards out in the open. This time, I’m done with bluffs
because I’ve no clue what to do next. Poker
chips: how I love you and swallow my hands 
in the same breath as I want. First, more potatoes
to dip into clouds of ranch, before I tell you
of pie from Lola’s, open all night, where we’d get BLTs and french fries,
hoping this will cut the distance. Like a slice
from my voice, I serpentine the chords. Around my thumb,
you’re too far.

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Madeleine Corely (she/her) is a writer by internal monologue and needs to stretch more. She currently serves as Poetry Editor at Barren Magazine. Her work has appeared at Emerge Lit, Rejection Lit, Knights Library Mag, Plum Recruit, and more. You can find her on Twitter @madelinksi and wrotemadeleine.com