Prairie Schooner

Please answer the phoneif it rings. The voicewill be Yoko Ono, but notthe real one—just a voice.

If it rings, the voicewill ask you a question—a real one; just. A voice,some bits of electrical sound, [End Page 128]

will ask you a questionabout your thoughts on art,some bits of electrical sound,or Yoko Ono in general.

About your thoughts on art:can they be articulated for me,or Yoko Ono, in general?And then your passions,

can they be articulated for meor will you stutter, falter?And then your passions,ignored, will sizzle out.

Or will you stutter? Falterso long and she'll hang up,ignored. She'll sizzle out,the connection severed—

so long! And she'll hang upher end. She'll forget you,the severed connectionpermanently silent. Remember

her end. She'll forget youwill be Yoko Ono, but notpermanently. Silently remember:"Please answer the phone." [End Page 129]

Their house rises up like a mountain's broad shoulder         with bedrooms instead of caves, an attached garage.

All around the house is silence, deep as a moat;         a cluster of starved trees shielding wind.

Everything I own you could fit inside the kitchen         and still have room to cook, entertain guests.

My entire life costs less than this statuary.         My entire life costs less than the piano

releasing its oversized belly in the extra living room.         When the night settles down around the house

like a sheet that silences the caged bird, they sleep         as content as balanced checkbooks.

There are two front doors. One that you use,         and one that is simply meant to be adored.