By Valentina Cano

She thought the phone
would ring like a toy one,
in simple, plastic tones,
a string of happy notes
that held no bitter words
tucked into its pearly orbs.
She imagined gliding to it,
teeth glinting in a smile
she’d reserved for such a moment,
one without a single crease of regret.
That’s not what she got.
The ring had fangs of sound,
voice curled in its hollows
a screech that deafened.
The room and all its angles disappeared,
tumbling into a cordless oblivion.

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