The Deaf Man at the Theater

A poem, a note and a poetry prompt

Photo by Julian Bossert on Unsplash

He must always sit front row center
where he cocks his head from side
to side to catch every word,
his eyes watching their mouths,
his own mouth twitching as if
mimicking will make them clearer.

This is his passion, robbed
by jackhammers that rattled
his whole body, shaking loose
the tiny anvils inside,
one tool dismantling the others.

Now his ears are filled with plastic
replicas, poor substitutes. He will always
miss the sotto voce from stage rear,
the tricky asides and whispers — but
the space between the words
where the audience holds its breath
is what he misses most:
that instinctive understanding
of silence.

Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash