‘No-one has ever written a poem “On His Deafness”’;
(David Lodge, Deaf Sentence).
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I try to get you side of my good ear;
our conversation gains in clarity,
one might say comprehension. But meanwhile,
what is the bad ear doing? Could it be
that ears are angels, and the evil one
is there to sow dissension, to set down
the stops that make our music? Satan squats
(wrote Milton) at the ear of Eve to spoil
our parents’ paradise, and all that is
perverse in us could well find lodging in
the labyrinth of cunning passages
bored in our temples with a stump of wing
to flag the faultline. Or is it the place
set there for love to listen to the things
that Eve and Adam always meant to say?
By Damian Grant
This poem originally appeared in The London Magazine in June 1960