I spoke with my dad this morning
Keh se ho
The words are clumsy, my tongue trips over the furniture in my mouth as if it hasn't lived there for 26 years
It gets rearranged, the indents in the carpet scars of what was, perhaps what should have been
The projection of a happy family sitting around the TV, words and language melting together fused solid, steady
instead
of bumping my elbow into the corner of the hardwood table as I try to
make myself small against the wall, unnoticed, my accent swallowed
No comments:
Post a Comment