On Writing

Poem 11 – Hearing Aid

Hearing aid

I haven’t heard the
bluejay gossip or the
squirrel shout orders
in weeks

Could be my ears
have stopped hearing
certain sounds – though
the second hand
the dog sigh
the boiling water
slapping against
the belly of the kettle
are very loud

Maybe it’s the storm
of grey Nows tumbling
over themselves
gathering the Bleak
before they finally fall
flatten
place their throbbing
heads down rest

Perhaps the robin
will boast an opera
loud enough to shake
the Waiting from my
auditory canals so
as hope flows in
I’ll hear it
sing along

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