FaceTime

Oceans are blind.
Telephone lines are deaf and dumb.

At the bottom of the ocean
lies ten thousand miles of transoceanic cables.

Text message threads.
Voice message threads.

Compressed image binary data bundles
decompress on transoceanic screens.

My new niece’s baby face
appears on my phone in Albuquerque

all the way from Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany.
Apple of my eye.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Expansion

Thank you for wearing a face mask
as you look from the outside through the window to see me.

Thank you for the lines at the edge of your eyes
that tell the nature of your smile.

Thank you for walking my three-legged dog
while I am blighted.

Thank you for painting mountains on the window
knowing how much it heartens me to see them.

Thank you for your personal appearance
even though you could FaceTime from home.

Thank you for holding up an unrolled yard of sod
so I could be refreshed by green grass.

Thank you for playing bird songs during our conversations
so I could feel my backyard in this hospital room.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Agency

Jesus was rummaging around
looking for a stray sock
checking all his shirts,
his sheets, the towels,
inside the legs of folded blue jeans
in the drawer.

It was important he find it.
He felt immortal only in this pair of socks.
He was not up to a three-way FaceTime
with the other two Holy Trinity members
without that particular woolen pair
covering his feet.

Jesus was pretty sure
a new time on earth was about to be ordered.
It would not be the overall second,
but the thirty-second time since the last pandemic.
Usually it was to take his place
along side the Doctors Without Borders.

He guessed which hotspot
would be his destination.
His calculations placed him
at an Indian Health Services Agency
on the Navajo Reservation
in the northwest corner of New Mexico.

Jesus found the sock
on the laundry room floor
where it must have fallen off
the basket edge where it hung to air dry
just as the instructions
on the packaging recommended.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney