How We Listen

How we listen betrays us:
Am I tired or excited?
Were you born in the wrong era?
If there are stacks against the wall to consult,
set to it;
if there are not, you have your answer.

How we listen betrays us:
Do I respond with anecdotes
or ideal visions that do not withdraw
but flame more intensely
in the presence of impossibility?
Are her eyes angry or hopeful?
Do they look down or away?

How we listen betrays us.

Do I unravel in the face of violence?
Is there a constant scratching
that accents my reception?

Can we be re-written?

How we listen betrays us.

If at night I do not stir
at the sound of rain
tapping un-domesticated rhythms
against the windows that testify
to the triumph of human frailty,
please, would you wake me?

How We Listen

If I meet a stranger
and begin to declare my own name
first,
reciting ancestries and anthems,
please,
interrupt me,
let silence wedge its way between
myself and my self-certainty.

How we listen betrays us.

Do I color you in more fully
with each word?
Do we repeat each other?

Silence will be my final judgment.

How we listen betrays us.