speaking in tongues

by mandaceehb

I am lost in the roots of this country; they unravel in my open palm like shriveled threads

With precise stitches I sew my lips together, rusty machine of disuse that is seas away from the

Fluent currents that flowed from our forebears’ tongues

I hold my flesh together with what I cannot say, every stitch one step closer to a lifetime of conformity

I speak

And the liquid that gathers on my tongue is nothing close

To the warm water enveloped in the embrace of fertile, earthly soil

My words are lubricated with the cold rain that slithers off leaves in murky droplets

Like the millions of drops that fall to the earth

And pray to be lodged in secure soil