a different-sounding heaven

she took away my hearing when she died,
my old ears that made endearments sound like dried out coffee grounds between sheets of paper.

but then there was no sound at all.

for the first time in a long time even my silences were empty.

there was no Sign,
no visitation,
no hints of haunting no matter how much we joked about flickering lights.

i did hear wind-chimes when i listened close, though,
where before i heard only the soft ring of a prayer bowl.

a key-change in the beating of my heart,
the pumping of my blood.

there were buttons on the counter at work.
'you are loved' proclaimed one,
and i waited for the reflexive deflection that always came boiling up out of me.
'you are loved' it said again into the air, vibrating,
and again i waited for the anger.
'you are loved' it said, as she had said it, but slower so i could understand.
'ah,' i thought to myself.

it settled,
that new sound,
into the space that only grief can make.