Calls
By T. Zachary Cotler

There are dogs in the city
tonight, sounding their skulls
like conch horns. We only forget
the rumors of each other,
phone to orbit to phone calls we made
last year, by now
our voices in the Oort Cloud, lightseconds
apart, but still in conversation
if an Oortshell should receive them
like a satellite, and sound them back
like Earthshells do the ocean.