Carol Ann Duffy


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.