Later
for Richard Chenault 1957 – 1995
Your voice translated me,
a lucid memory.
You videotaped my hands, words.
Now that’s all gone to the birds.
What led you to sign, to grasp?
Your fluency made me gasp.
You turned deaf to others sneering.
Your ears were so used to hearing.
Translate me one more time.
I loved how we could rhyme.
Death’s a cruel interpreter:
Nothing translates for later.
Raymond Luczak, "Later" from Mute. Copyright © 2010 by Raymond Luczak. Reprinted by permission of Raymond Luczak and A Midsummer Night's Press.
Source:
Mute
(A Midsummer Night's Press, 2010)
