EARS OF SHAME ‘78
(listen to the poem, read by Diane R. Wiener)
My ears of shame always fall-foliaged:
All this worrying about whether I would finally score a new friend.
I can’t keep doing this every year.
This is worse than that Jerry Lewis Labor Day telethon.
Must I walk this way and that for their approval?
Am I supposed to be a better barbarian than the year before?
Should I remove my hearing aids and not speak?
Maybe I should become a noble deaf-and-dumb savage
blessed with an innate wisdom that only hearing people crave,
as if my inferiority will divine their superiority.
No, it’s much better if I could try to properly modulate
my hisses so that I can sound like music to their ears.
Never mind that my voice is harsh like sandpaper.
The miracle of deaf speech is hard to top.
I can speak! O praise Thy Lord!
O come hear me inspire the lot of you.
Yes, you may bow before me and gaze at my ears in wonder,
never seeing my Oz eyes full of spit.
One day I will pull aside those damn curtains.
There is no God operating backstage.
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About the Author
Raymond Luczak is the author and editor of over 30 titles, including 12 full-length poetry collections such as Far from Atlantis (Gallaudet University Press) and Animals Out-There W-i-l-d (Unbound Edition Press, forthcoming). His work has appeared in Poetry, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. An inaugural Zoeglossia Poetry Fellow, he lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Visit his website at: raymondluczak.com