First, the cold friction of expiring sense …
Eyes as they dim attempt
the glare of a leader, or
the certainty and calm
of another leader; fail.
Glasses bring screens
and the young bodies horribly
at home in them closer. And
words, but words themselves
seem unreliable, evasive.
Alone, eyes at each moment fear
they show the loss and need they once
contained. Which they won’t accept,
because, when they see them,
they must still mock and dismiss them.
Ears in contrast
find peace. When a wind
fiercer than any remembered brings
down leaves in the prime of life,
removing gadgets stills it.
Likewise certain voices. Quarrels,
danger can be outsourced
to eyes, which can close.
That sudden, always somehow surprising
silence is flattery;
important sounds may pierce it, but
they too can be ignored.
An innermost revelation: even you
needn’t listen to you