Lela's Heart

The deaf mute Lela met the alms man and the harridan at the church bazaar one especially warm June afternoon. She was dressed in a blue and rose taffeta dress with frills and calfskin sandals double-knotted into perfect bows. She registered thumps and rumblings, feet shuffling and hands fretting, but no sounds whatsoever, not even the beating of her own heart. Everything was a feeling, sensing, corporeal. She read lips and knew the rudiments of signing, but was incapable of language. A yellow moon harvested the sky, cut diamonds and broken crystal, puffed out chests and broad-sleeved coats. She heard doors slammed shut, a clap of wind, a moths wings ruffling still night air; but no sounds, not even the beating of her own heart, not a sound.