by Holly Day
In Thomas Edison’s later years, when he refused to admit
he was going deaf and instead withdrew from society
because he couldn’t communicate without getting angry,
his friends taught themselves Morse Code
so they could gently tap out messages on Edison’s leg, inconspicuously,
so as not to shame the sensitive man in public.
They would tap messages out to him
underneath tablecloths at restaurants
under the hem of a coat spread out on his lap
or even behind the furl of an open newspaper.
To the casual onlooker,
it may have looked like something improper
was happening at Edison’s table, all those hands
flurrying and tapping
just out of sight,
a gaggle of older gentlemen pointing out the ladies
whose conversations they were translating
while Edison leaned back and imagined
he was still part of this world.
Holly Day’s writing has recently appeared in Analog SF, Cardinal Sins, and New Plains Review, and her published books include Music Theory for Dummies and Music Composition for Dummies. She currently teaches classes at The Loft Literary Center in Minnesota, Hugo House in Washington, and The Muse Writers Center in Virginia.
header image: Charles and Thomas Edison in Building no. 5, public domain.
