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19 November 2010, 12:00 pm No Comments

Poetry: The Gift

Submission by Jeremy Pace, TNG contributor

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Cover me in your soft, foreign tongue

Cover every inch of this American boy

With tales of what you have learned to be the truth

As the truth in another language

Teach me how your vowels hold themselves

Against the howling rise and fall of your meter

Allow me a chance to hear the song of your language

Free of lecture or explanation

I am at the mercy of your speech

Left, pleasantly and content

In a mysterious soundscape

I will trust that

You have no intentions of insults

That your words are flattering

Or honest

I rest, with pleasure

In the modern exotic landscape

Of your speech

I ask only that you whisper softly

Everything I need to know

But you cannot say in English

What can’t you tell me in my native tongue?

What about you has to be said in words I don’t understand?

If you find that there are baggages



My fresh and tender heart cannot bear the weight of

Do not deny me honesty


Place your gifts, wrapped

At the doorstep of my forehead

My earlobes

My Adam’s apple

My lips

And leave the unwrapping

To me

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