Monday, January 7, 2019

excerpt from Translation by Julian Randall

excerpt from Translation
My mother hangs up the phone
scrapes loose the tears
prepares to tell me
who is dying    this time

I speak no Spanish
my mother is the translator
of the dying
my family is always the dying
I say family despite the fact
I have attended none of their funerals
My abuelita was a ricocheting ghost
she died once    and I forgot
an entire language

Ok    I didn’t forget
it just became inconvenient to remember
who wants a language for the living anyway?
An inventory of my tongue
yields nothing
that looks like my mother
the resemblance stops at the mouth
She is fluent in a language
I am only ever ugly in
she falls asleep in front of the tv
her show muted    
I wonder if in her dreams 
I can speak

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.