Unsubtitled
Come to think of it, I am not real
Hiding behind languages.
I want to know how to be me in my language.
Do you learn them
to be loved? they ask,
while my mouth stitches
silence into grammar.
My tongue, a scolded child
mouthing syllables like contraband.
Now I wear its shame.
All I wanted was to say ‘water’
in seven tongues seven silver rivers.
and hear seven rivers answer.
The more languages I borrow
the louder my silence grows__
until I spit them all out,
a flood of unbroken syllables.
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Poem (c) Elkis
Image: kate kopteva unsplash remixed