It was a rough week so I wrote a lot of poems.

The Call

Among other knacks, we inherited a rotary phone from Aunt Mina.
The black and gold curved receiver rang like real bells.
We dialed on it as if in the '30s.

Visitors asked, Why such an old phone?
(I secretly believed time travel.)
Its wooden plaque frame beckoned us to mount it, but it wasn't.

What is it to come of age, in the year 2000, in your living room?
A call is placed, and we walk around the heralding sound.