On Not Speaking My Own Native Language
I have questions,
questions in the only spoken language I speak,
and so the questions are themselves perversions,
distortions…
I have questions,
questions in the only spoken language I speak,
and so the questions are themselves perversions,
distortions…
They divorced long ago. Because they never
taught me self-amputation, I cannot deny
parts of them: Freddie wouldn’t tolerate…
Let me die writing, Mother
When you come to take me home
May you find me flowing ink
May you find me impassioned…