His Voice
When he speaks,
with hands… not words,
he takes a breath after every sign,
repeats every sign twice.
When he’s nervous
he hums, sometimes he’ll squeal
On a bad day, he’ll flick spit into the corners of her mouth
jumping like a kangaroo on steroids
he frowns.
When he’s hungry,
he holds his hand to his chin, taps twice
presses his lips to the side of her cheek
she hands him the crate of biscuits
he smiles.
When he needs the toilet,
he rubs his fist against the left side of his chest
To say “It’s time to say goodbye”
he taps his wrist with one finger, pulls another finger from his mouth
and waves.
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to hear everyone’s voice
but my own.
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to never have a voice at all
Copyright © Matthew Payne | Year Posted 2019
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