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Texting from Heaven

by Mark Rhoads


My wife dictates with such passion

elongating the vowels of thankfulness

raising the pitch of irritation

quaking when concerned


passion her phone does not notice

nor can it hear the melody in her voice

and there is no algorithm for meaning

just the sorting of abstract sounds


putting down its gratuitous construal

like the time she said to me in a text

I’m dead it’s beautiful