Jessica White



‘Can I Do My Words?’: On the Poetics of Deafness

Taken together, these three memories denote my progression towards finding a voice as a deaf writer.

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Signs

(i) On the old blue trampoline beneath the apricot tree the breeze is a blade scraping my cheeks, the dew-damp air bites like snow and glass falls through leaves onto my eyelids. (ii) On the hospital bed Dad reads from …

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