Upon Deaf Ears

There was no noise.
    How odd.
I always thought the silence was broken--
shattered by the slow groaning
of old floorboards,
    and the oxidized cries while the needle drags
across a grooved black road.
Yet--there was no noise.
The metronome screeched to a halt.
    How odd.

There was nothing when I caressed
my steel-stringed lover.
    How odd.
I cursed her name
as I threw her with authority to the ground--
but there was no resonating thud;
    nothing but silent air
seemed to pour from my throat.

What happened to that grand staff
that always meandered
it’s way through my home?
Or the hum of nature flowing
through my warm July window?
There was always noise,
    but now there was none.
        How odd.