SLOW TONGUE

On his deathbed my grandfather said to me
You, you need to have the words ripped out of your mouth
Like nails from a wall.
For the first time he looked at me with interest
And the affection reserved for pleasant strangers
Who happened into his life.
Tell me, he begged,
You've seen the world.

I haven't seen it, Grandpa, except
Through the nail holes
I left in the wall of the house
Until my parents filled them
With big forgetting
And many habits
And all the words I ripped out
Are hereby scattered before you
On the hospital blanket.
All that, I wanted to tell him
But the bed receded,
The words stuck in my mouth
And they pierced my tongue.

לשון אטית

לשון אטית