What's the poem? 📃✍️ The poem gazes at my fingers pressing against the window glass, My lips move without a sound, My pantomime-like vowels are trapped beyond the window pane. 🖐️🖐️🪟 The poem is laughing, I shrug, But it never reached my ears. Jokes dissipate into the air, Like sugar dissolves in hot tea. ☕ The poem is my hands fluttering, Signing lonely against the silence, While the world hums its busy tune On a frequency, I cannot tune. 📻❌ The poem is the way my name Is always half-formed on their tongues, Sgsl, not Chattybee, 🤟 (Signs for S-G-S-L, then shake head and finger-spell C-h-a-t-t-y-b-è-e small 🤟) A stumble in the dark. The poem is my voice, Not lost, but woven into motion. Every movement is a verse, Each gesture is a stanza, Every pause is a line break. 🛑 [1] The poem is my voice here, Waiting for you to see and read it, Not just for your ears. ❌👂📖