Excerpt from a work in progress:I don't think she heard...

Excerpt from a work in progress:

I don't think she heard the giant Dylan room, that the first thing she heard

was a lacklustre rock concert.

But if her half-formed elven ears could not take it in

the deaf girl might have felt the rumblings

of those mumblings, soft bones

wobbling when the water waved

and formed waves in her brain.

Does it offset my decision

to skip last-chance Leonard Cohen, packing her along, one month old?

It will be another thing shared between us, a shared regret,

I hope, which sounds like a lyric:

we share skin, regrets, and lobeless ears,

hers still wrinkled and unfolding.