Tender//At War with Language

Nnadi Samuel

“your name, immigrating / into another language where hurt is easy / to pronounce” — Eric

Yip

Pa’s beautiful youth had him resolute—stuf�ng warm bright tea into his lungs, & racing nine stairs down the hallway to defy the long queue of pensioners, brooding over a wreck of a bus.

a glossary of literary terms starched to his breast pocket. name it ‘consistency,’ I’ll prize each by its ‘cons’: the way metaphor lives rent-free on his chest. the way hyperbole exaggerates his walk steps.

the �ashbacks, rearranging him in neat reverse.

his face lifts at the wholesome thought of language, as he mouths the disadvantage to dissonance.

holding the grammar to my lip, I fondle a rough note. the alphabets—worrying my spit like an oat, like English itself was a stirrable omen: this wreck of vowel, handed to our lineage. the slim weight of its inheritance rubberizing my gum. ripened verb in brine-soaked font. tongue, bruised to whitening.