Sam Rush, American poet, began writing poems after developing progressive hearing loss and realizing how many words each word could be.
SONNET FOR SPEECH TOO SOFT & YOU WHO’VE YET TO CHOOSE A NAME
Sam Rush
Once. A bell told & told & I am told
does still. Once. I took a man at eyes &
out his mouth a stack of breath fainted, lay
still & still hot & silent at my feet.
Once. There was a last whisper that found me.
Once. I waded out, cast a line, & watched
the surface sound its circles in circles
of declaration, fading flat in time
to meet my skin. I mean. My mother
speaks to angels. I mean. Today I keep
the speaker out of me for long enough
to watch a swallow swoon the ghost of song.
I mean. That I have come to trust the sound
of you, Child, whatever we have yet to hear