Got a quarter
so I call you up on the telephone
ring-ring-ring
but only your wife and mother are home,
so no one answers.
You out charting and graphing
marriages and progeny
of the deaf,
while only your wife and mother
--deaf--
are home. (ringed in)
So I leave a message
after the beep--
but actually,
it's before the beep because
the beep
I can not hear.
So, you miss
half of it.
I start again.
This time, I mouth the message--
so you can lipread.
But you don't get it,
can't tell my b's from my p's,
my f's from my v's.
So I try again
slowing. . . down . . .
emph-a-siz-ing
each
W-O-R-D,
my face contorted, clown-like.
Still,
that won't do.
(What are you, dumb?)
I try signing,
hands across space
in your face,
but you are horrified
by the spectacle of my body
moving
beyond speech,
and you avert your eyes.
Too late.
I have burned your retina,
salt-pillared you,
left you speechless.
And oh, the time is up,
message too long.
(It's taken 120 years to
get this call through.)
Sorry.
No, wait--
I'll fax you the facts;
I'll send a video,
documentary of my life,
caption and all,
interpreter on standby;
or perhaps TTY or relay service;
an e-mail even,
coming through.
Let's "talk."
But oh--
now that I've gotten my medium,
I've forgotten my message.