The Hearing Aid

My mother–half-deaf,
a small metal box
pinned to her blouse,

and beneath the gray locks
the hidden earphone,
the wire running across

her heart to its home
in her ear–can barely
hear me anymore. I’m

just someone’s voice
lost years ago, trying now
to make myself clear,

deliberately now,
so she will see how
hard the words come.

Bent to her breast, I speak
to the heart, almost hopeless,
where hardly anyone

is ever heard.