She picks up the beige handle, weighty solid,
a slight bend at each end, the cord stretching
from one end to its squarish base
Holding one end to her right ear the other the cord attached end
resting near her mouth She listens,
hears the sound of hope, the tone of possibility

She extends her left index finger and
hooks it into the dial cutout over the 5
turning the dial until it stops,
removing her finger as she watches
the dial slide back
Six more times the ritual is repeated

and then  

she waits  

She hears it 

bzz, bzz, bzz  

the sound of hopes dashed,

the end of possibility  

Her left index finger pushes down the peg in the handle cradle
and then releases it
hears the sound of hope,
extends her left index finger, hooks it into the dial cutout