THE CALL by Angela O’Connor


THE CALL by Angela O’Connor

She spat down the phone, vile words of attack;

Meant to harm

Meant to humiliate

Meant to help her

 

Holding the phone like a white hot coal

No sentence formed

Simple or complex

 

My ears accepted their host’s brutal yet beautiful deceit

I placed it in its cradle, ceasing the explosion of betrayal.

 

Shaken with cruel reality, I slumped into an old chair

Outside rain hit the panes, tinkling on the glass-

Sounding my resurrection

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