too young the illness to hear
the origin story
taken ill visiting my great-uncle Alan thought soon die
give me painkillers
restless condition admitted to hospital
a coma
no apparent ill effects, no reaction
floor playing toys calls, “Pita?”
not turn to face
behind me, and clapped
something wrong
not hear her
mythology
great-uncle Alan lived the next twenty seven years
struck a bargain
give him more life
the price: hearing
died, a rainbow
kindly gentle smiling crinkled
don't ever without technology
float disconnected
that happened, but not how they sounded
Silence is all-pervading
Sound a compromise
a part I strap on
to my chest in a X-harness
teacher a large radio microphone neck
strike us on the head
when Wendy bent over
all the same because strapped to our chests
bone conduction
keys clicking
closing the door downstairs as she comes home
wind knocking the door against the wall
heavy vehicle passing by
sounds in my bones
keys clicking
plug in cochlear implant
clack
reverberating front door
quivering aftershocks as ripples
the frame of the house
up to the right of the door.
wind bangs the window, the door
slams the bedroom doors beneath
a visitor has arrived
regular visits various adults
hearing aids calibrated after a hearing test
correct the whistling
count the number of holes in the sound
plastic toys and jig saw puzzles
endured
injected into my ears.
being filled up completely
sad when it had hardened and been removed.
a pressure that never stopped pressing
swimming in a constant stream
I was the only Deaf person there.
Itinerant teachers camein the small resources
School Journal boxes and sundry other
extra one on one reading
Mrs. White.
speech therapy
burnt down
a vacant lot.
