By David C. Nielsen
Close your eyes and don’t peek-but I peeked.
I expected angels,
smiling down,
slapping high fives,
reeling in the words
like rainbow trout.
Instead, it was like swimming underwater:
I could stare where I wanted, make faces,
wiggle my tongue.
The woman next to me
whispered amens. I thought about
kissing her,
laying a wet smack on her lips
and watching her wake
like snow white.
A girl my size swung her legs
on the back row, looked around like this
was a baseball game—
an easy afternoon,
warm, breezy.
I wanted her
to see me, to reach out
across the deaf sea of people
and mouth hello.
