poem from Steve

I was reading through old journal entries and found this poem my Steve wrote for me.

I am hanging up the phone
and I'm looking for a conversation to go out on.

"Don't forget to call Jordan."

What would be enough
if we never spoke again? Not that.

"See ya later."
It sounds cursory because it is.

"Love you."
It seems like such a hollow platitude.

And still... I'm looking for a conversation to go out on.

Maybe it's the hunger to be remembered:
To not be forgettable, and yet, to not be forgotten.
But it's more than that I think.


"The kids'll be fine."
"I'll stop at the bank."
I can't go out on any of these.

It's hard to have the last work spoken
not be banal or cliche.

The silence is awkward.
But all language seems bankrupt.
Words have no strength to hold
the weight of what should be said
but can't be found to say.

"That'll have to wait."
"I can't talk about it now."

So maybe there is just no way to say it.

I want to say that my life began when you spoke my name with something like interest.
I could go out on that.

I want to say that my will ended
at the doorstep of your heart.
That I was made who I am all along the way
I've walked with you.

but all my words are crippled, hapless,
forlorn and freightless.
So I say, "I'll call you when I land."
And I hope you heard me.