He tells me he can’t hear me when I say
I love him.
He says I am too loud for him,
My syllables cause his ears to rumble and then there is
He says sometimes he closes his eyes to keep the
sound out more.
So we sit,
eyes and ears covered during dinner,
I’m tapping my fingers around a knife directed at the steak
and point it towards him.
He moves his hands and says something but I
can’t hear him,
can’t hear anything but a murmur in between hisses of the oven.
I tell him he needs to fix the oven.
We watch our words die in the steak of broccoli and butter,
on our own plates,
I love you.
He shakes his head, points to ears that have gone blurry in my eyes,
And we settle.