and her name was Decibel

the street where I live

that silent little boy watching from the corner

of our family               resentful

how everything became about her

colicky arrival              demanding

one phoneme bully at a time still he doesn’t know

what happened            behind

our hands that could talk but instead made him

listen to this noisy       world

without the sound of its round eyes wondering

is anyone watching?   Why

does she get  all the attention?  Who is this

unseen force he         Hates

not knowing he’s        Deaf

© Liana 7/15

(sup)pose

slung

he carried the weight of his promises

bent in his shoulders like he invented

prayer but couldn’t sell the idea

to himself . . . he never meant it

literally . . . the hammock nailed

to the tree and hung so tight

it strained with him when

he let himself lie

there . . . bowed

. . . how could he ever

get in or out of this . . . imagining

the arc he would make

if he let himself        . . .    go

© 7/15