One of my least favorite things about summer
Do you have tinnitus? Well, I do. Maybe that’s why these buggers bug me so. We get the 17-year cicadas in droves around here, and in off years, like this summer, we still get enough to be annoying. Here’s hoping the noises in your head are more pleasant.
song drills into my skull, the noise unwinds a hot thread– along these nerves. Harsh, grating jackhammer drone never fades. Like trepanation it’s pressure incessant that bores into my brain to riddle concentration.
All VERB and REVERB.
Though dark descends, silence is rewired; buzz doesn’t end but phantoms away, recedes like echoes. Your whine’s an auger that emptied my head.
© Ellen Wade Beals, 2003