Deleted Voice Message: Hey, Robyn—It’s Me, Whitney
I keep waking up a new color of lonely,
exhausted from runs across bridges
through storms in my sleep. That’s nothing
but the Devil, Mama chimes. Should’ve known,
the chorus. I run to you, even when I stand
spotlit onstage. A false wind chants “Whitney”
instead of my name. Robyn, I don’t know
what’s worse: trying to wrap my warmth
around yours then realizing I’m still in bed
with him, or reaching for you in the dark
and only being held by darkness. Tell
no one, not even me, but I hear a silence
dragging its chains, and baby, I know better
than most: you can’t outrun a sound.
POEM: Hey, Robyn—It’s Me, Whitney