He holds the 21st century up to his ear
and I can see it so clearly on the
small screen: the helix and the antihelix,
the curve of his scapha,
the lobule of course, and between
his tragus and antitragus, where
it's easy for detritus to collect,
his intertragic notch is looking
particularly clean and shiny.
There's a tuft of hair here and there,
to be expected at 80; and there
is the transparent wire that makes
it all work still: just a filament, really,
looping over the helicis crus,
over the concha cavum (not
to be confused with the concha
cymba), into the much more
commonly known ear canal.
The picture is so clear that I imagine
I can see inside: the practically-named
stirrup, anvil and hammer,
which thumps the ear drum
far more delicately than "hammer"
and "drum" suggest. We joke
when he realizes I've been
studying his ear instead of seeing
his face, about how he's glad
he showered this morning to get
that ear so clean--and still
we misunderstand each other.
They arrive for the dinner we agreed
must be separate; we turn them away
on the porch because one of us
might be unclean--virus trapped,
perhaps, in that notoriously mucky
intertragic notch.
draft ©Heidi Mordhorst 2020
