The Deaf Poet

The thick jelly roll of noise

Filled with soft syllables and unspoken words

Is all around you if you just

Open the ear in your heart

And tune the fork

Which vibrates in you

Always

And which knows

when something is said

even if it isn’t.

I am the deaf poet.

I hear you

Clamoring up there in your head

Fighting with your own thoughts who

Use swords and knives

And vicious words to win.

Relying on trickery.

Some things will break.

Some things will get broken and

There will always be a hole

Where the sound of wind passing through

Will be loud,

a lonely sound

that I alone can hear.

You must fill that hole with memories, with pets,

And songs your father sang you, people you love,

Your children, favorite songs, your first kiss,

pizza.

You must fill it and seal it

With wet sand, bricks, mortar.

And then hang a sign that says

“ No Vacany”.

You’re full up.

I am the deaf poet.

I put my hands around the invisible.

I rely on the train of sound,

it’s texture dense, mud-like heavy.

Your heart has an ear