Deaf
He hears you talking but he doesn’t hear all the words your speech sounds represent.
He listens hard: the wordless words pass by.
He can’t locate their whatsits ...? Referents?
The nameless things your lost words signify.
He can decode the spoken word below a given frequency, but women’s speech soft-voiced sopranos — and the odd phonemes of regional accents are beyond his reach.
He’s listening, but he can’t make out your names.
The faults lie in the workings of his ears: they don’t. He’d know exactly what you meant if he could still infer what you imply. But deaf old men grow unintelligent: you ask straight questions; they give bent replies.
Some conversations are more ebb than flow for him: meanings adrift, voices offpitch.
You think the deaf old man’s mind is as dim as his hearing. Hard to know which is which.
He answers questions no one puts to him.
James Aitchison
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