Poems Have No Speakers

Listening to murmuring
Conversations, since they’re here,
Shielded only by curtains

Between the beds of patients
Waiting with their families
Before same-day surgeries,

And since you have ears to hear,
It strikes you you’re surrounded
By speech, ordinary speech—

Unwritten, unrecorded,
Under-theorized talking—
Nervousness, anecdotes, jokes—

That is, humorous remarks
Followed by tolerant laughs—
A lot of repetition,

Greetings and salutations,
Plus scraps of information.
It’s a lot like listening

To a quiet stream burbling,
And would be even more like that
If not knowing the language.

When have you ever listened
To a poem read aloud or
Heard as a voice in your head

Where the speaking felt like this
Simultaneous chorus
Of little consequences?