Frannie Z


Imagine that the wind

instead of passing around and over

decided to settle in your ear

and kicked up a storm.

Hailstones, ice pellets, slush

would all descend

into your ear canal.

Not in actual round cold

but in a vapor of hisses,

and sputter the night away,

not in dance

but in moans and static.


You might ask it nicely

to go play somewhere else.

But the spirit of noise nuisance

has no such plans.

Whistling and whooshing,

it turns into the B-52’s,

but without words or tune.

Sometimes it clamors,

sometimes it screams,

sometimes it yodels.

Its repertoire is endless.


The bad part is

that there is no cure.


The good part is

that there is no cure.

But if you stun it with music,

it may retreat,

at least for a while.

2 thoughts on “Tinnitus

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