Tin Can Telephone

I rummage through mountains
of tin cans that pile outside the
doorstep. Their empty bodies dented
because mom can only afford discounts.

I find Campbell’s but it’s too savory
and I’ve never fancied green beans.
I sift and sort until the tangy, mildewed
scent of peaches catches my eye.

You’re exquisite! Round like the silver
moon and label still intact:

Halved Golden Peaches.

I dare not rinse your sticky remnants
before I cup you to my
impatient ear.

Oh how the sweet syrup rings
of her voice.