breathing deeply enough 
to rustle the mold off my ribs,
i pour a glass of cold water,
pluck the pit from a cherry, 
and make a long phone call. 

“we hope for peace in others because we hope for peace in ourselves” 
she tells me through the static-
the voice is familiar but 
more honest than the one i’m used to. 

i think She might be Me, 
but from somewhere further and wiser than 
where I am now.