Aphasia
By Chris Abani
My language is dying the same way
my father did:
Alone. Night. And there are no storms. Only
moonlight straining through holes in a tin roof
And the slight exhalation, lips
pursed as though to say: Uwa'm.
Copyright Credit: Chris Abani, "Aphasia" from Hands Washing Water. Copyright © 2006 by Chris Abani. Reprinted by permission of Red Hen Press.