Night Frequencies.(Poem)

   Nothing came of my mother's voice. 
   Not a sound from my father. 
 
   Neither do I recall reasons for her silence 
   or for the timing of Pearl Harbor 
   to coincide with birth. 
 
   I do not recollect their voices 
   or those of other children 
 
   when it came to October 
   and I was a fat and winning child, 
   costumed as a pumpkin. 
 
   There must have been applause 
   I never heard, frame after frame 
 
   of time gone deaf, 
   a silence so full it spilt over, 
   slippery and pale 
 
   as the satin binding of my ...