Кэрол Энн Даффи . Текст

Text 

I tend the mobile now 
like an injured bird. 

We text, text, text 
our significant words. 

I re-read your first, 
your second, your third, 

look for your small xx, 
feeling absurd. 
The codes we send 
arrive with a broken chord. 

I try to picture your hands, 
their image is blurred. 

Nothing my thumbs press 
will ever be heard.