Things the Deaf Boy Does Next Door

He collects sticks. Buries rocks.
Tapes together sheets of newspaper,
tosses them into the air
and lies down face to the ground.

He names the trees, marking them
with patterns of stones. He collects them
when it is dark. In morning,
I see the papers stacked
covered in stones.
He is collecting sticks again.

From a trip to the mall,
he brought home a bird—
a yellow-crested cockatiel.
His mother sets the bird loose
when he bathes. Gray jets
stream across his window.

With an elbow on her mailbox,
she leans in close to tell me
that the beating of its wings
sets ripples on the water
her boy can hear.

PRINTE-MAILRECOMMEND...RSS

FacebookMySpace Mixx Digg Reddit del.icio.us Furl Ma.gnolia SphereStumbleUponCLOSE

SPONSORED CONTENT

• Always With the Complaining!
  Meet Ben Jonson and Robert Herrick, poetry's most artful kvetches.
  Robert Pinsky | Dec. 1, 2009
• The Slate Poetry Podcast
  Your favorite poets read their work to you.
  Dec. 1, 2009
• "Funeral"
  A weekly poem, read by the author.
  Rosanna Warren | Nov. 24, 2009
• Search for more Poems articles
• Subscribe to the Poems RSS feed
• View our complete Poems archive