Poem may be a little rough on the edges.
It happened this way. Here it is.
calls, once vivid, once friend, are
now hung up, in my purse, I am
crawling a city, it stretches its arms,
absorbs me, entirely, emptily,
recedes only (in my ear) to voice
and sound of rain, high heels
clattering, to twists of truth,
turns of faith, earrings dangling,
whispers, vaguely reverberating
consoling, to voice and sound of
probing, to echoes of allegation
and (in your face) ambiguation.