Speaking with my mother,
after phone disconnections,
not-getting-throughs,
and of unreturned calls;
then, again, her anger rises,
a spiked, child-sick bile,
reflux-like, but not mine,
still before we stop talking
I tell her I love her,
but I am once more muted
by the receiver’s placement
on her telephone’s cradle
50.9664140.095913