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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