Homeland to find
I didn't understand the language.
As a child,
I was not permitted
To use contractions
And slang
As the vulgate children did.
And so, I pull words up by the roots
And chop them up
And soak them in corn whiskey.
I'm making tinctures out of them.
An amber bottle,
A few drops in the ears
Of some stranger I wish to speak to,
And now, everyone seems to understand me just fine.
-jenn
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