Fiction Is a Foreign Country for the World

Why is it you find romantic
The mute who can hear but can’t speak
But seem troubled by characters
Who can vocalize but can’t hear?

In fiction, the middle ground’s held,
Occasionally, by signing
Characters who can’t hear but stay
Demurely quiet all the time.

Outside of fiction, non-hearing
People make all kinds of noises,
And hearing people simply mute
Are nearly never encountered,

Although, of course, such lives are lived
In the normal distribution,
Which is ordinary, boring.
Fiction’s more to do with wishes.

Moons in tales show crescent or full.
Like faith, a family member,
Fiction solemnly claims the truth
Is greater than mere, common facts,

Which conveniently excuses
Wishes’ need to subvert some facts
To arrive at wish fulfillment.
And what wishes are sequestered

In sweet fictions of hearing mutes?
You will be listened to. You will
Be understood. You will not be
Interrupted by rude noises.

You won’t have to work to be clear.
The world understands you, hears you
Every time you weep, curse, or pray.
Your God is not deaf, only mute,

Only struggling to signal you
With every omen in the sky—
Gods, mutes, faiths, and fate, their cousin,
From your foreign lands of fictions.