Acoustics

I tried to do that thing you do with your throat

when you think a joke is only half-funny.

But the sound came out like a dry cough,

thin and wrong.

I opened the file on my desktop.

The little white circle spun and spun

while I held my breath in the dark.

When you finally spoke, the sharpness

of your vowels cut right through me.

I’d been remembering you in a lower key,

muffled by the distance.

I’m ashamed of how much of you is already

becoming a guess.