After a Language Is Lost
My tongue, as if sitting on it /
Two minutes of a day / heavy enough
/ to crush words / coming out my mouth. /
I remember: / my father, / the car.
/ Everything overturned, / even time.
/ They ask my name. / Messy letters in
my head & can’t / pronounce it.
/ It’s not funny.
/ No spoken language, /
as if I am months-old again. /
Wheelchair. /
Glued, my strength to the sit. /
My sister didn’t walk / but drove me. /
Can’t talk to thank her. /
/ Lost my mother’s tongue. /
Even in dreams / I answer questions mute, /
/ repeating the alphabet. /
Every night / a poem / to speak to God.
/ To love again, / I learn names
once engraved in my voice. /
It’s a shame. /
Look at me ― / am I still myself? /
Not just silent / but a thinner me. /
Since I can’t tell / nor say, / it’s
my new way: / to speak best / with gestures.
/ Now / look how chatty I am /
Without talking. /