On Mute

NATE WILBERT

May 18, 2020

Work calls

reveal new sounds.

Sounds I could mute (did mute) before,

filtered out

like white noise,

my aural quarantine of not-yet-joys.

Baby babble,

coos and a gurgle,

plaintive distant cries.

Sounds beautiful and sounds of ache. Of

Dad, I failed the test. Of

Mom, can we talk?

Of Dad and Mom and may I please,

of soft answers like, maybe Son, we’ll see.

Sounds boxed up before quarantine,

Before our quiet childless space began to fill

with joy

and ache.

Before work calls recalled the want.

Before I prayed, God, why do you wait?

Nate Wilbert lives in North Texas with his wife and works as an IT professional. You can read more of his poetry at: https://www.emptytheempyrean.com.