A Pair of Small Ears
I have come to translate the silence.
I've brought paper and pencils
and a pair of small ears.
I ask you
not to disturb me
until the task is done.
First I will unwrap the ears
and place them face up
on the floor.
You will observe their strangeness
these tiny shallows
these bridges of bone.
They are waiting for the sound
of no sound –
nothing is permitted
not even the intermittent
buzz of a fly nor the tick of a wall.
You must soften your breath
learn patience –
shuffle along any vagrant thought.
Soon the ears will begin
to quiver – gently they will
pick up the pencils at their side.
Listen closely –
the word is about to be
written.
Maggie Sawkins lives in Portsmouth and delivers creative writing projects in community settings. Her live literature production "Zones of Avoidance" won the 2013 Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry. Her most recent poetry collection, Many Skies Have Fallen, is published by Wild Mouse Press. You can find her here: www.hookedonwords.me.
Thanks for this explanation of some beginnings I didn't understand. The deafening cacophony of silence sometimes makes me angry with people who don't see me as 'listening' when I haven't asked for quiet. :-)