Sleeping with the dictionary

I like this poem a lot. This is called "Illuminate".

My mind differentiates with
sound. See, never has there been a
light nor dark – my lexicon holds
footsteps, sighs of boredom, zippers
sealing shut in wintertime, cold
doorknobs turning, pages turning,
cam’ra shutters staring, blinking.
My eyes wonder, wander; I de-
sire Truth as much as you, through
auditory fashion brought to
beat on drums and hang on lobes, pre-
ferred to sight, to tricks of light.
Illuminate. Illuminate.
Sounds blur, as do faces when in
crowded places (metro stations),
so I’ve heard before. But yours, your
voice is bold and new, and parses
rhythms like a lisp wound round a
tongue depressor, ice pop gone. If
only I could see that smile – you
say your fav’rite color’s yellow,
like I’m wearing, accidental.

(Prompt: Write a poem in which you revise, revisit, expand, or challenge the definition of a word. See A. Van Jordan, "from".)