Geostationary: Marfa, Texas
by Jan Elaine Harris
listening to your voice on the phone
I lose track of what I wanted to say
next get distracted forget what I tried
not to forget to tell you that I like your voice
hope it will age and crackle deepen its
lower register we mumble sentences
as bodies fade into voices voices get carried
through satellites satellites irradiate
our parametric hesitations each glimmering like
halogen headlights on an unfamiliar highway
as they spiral through the dusk I wanted to say
how I loved you but instead I barely whispered
your name
Jan Elaine Harris (she/her) is a Professor of Writing at Lipscomb University. Her chapbook, Isolating One’s Priorities, was published by Finishing Line Press. Recent poems have appeared in Tiny Spoon, Feral, Stone Poetry Journal, American Writers Review, The West Trade Review, Plants and Poets Anthology, etc. She lives in East Nashville with her partner and her two perfect GSPs: Malloy and Astrid-June.
