she dreams in her mother tongue
as her hand rests on my face
with each sudden sound slipping from her lips
I watch another syllable float past my fingertips
through the space between us
down to the well of words we’ll likely never share
lost thoughts and misconstrued memories
as I look back up, I think I see you teeter, losing balance for a moment
and wonder if I could catch you
she dreams in her mother tongue
and briefly calls my name
i tear at the phonemes, the tone, the cadence
as if I could draw out by force an inkling
of what it is her mind churns over
to me, it sounds sweet, almost melodic,
yet frantically lilts, gets partially swallowed
abrupt and bright, a little bit scared?
I’m left with the scraps of an unravelling tapestry
longer than eyes can see or minds can recall
and with bare hands, I blindly weave
she dreams in her mother tongue
and she’ll wake before the day
then at once, she settles into a familiar rhythm, my ear finally latching on
對唔住
sorry
once, twice, over and over
no part of me could imagine what for
I hold her tighter, willing her whispers into a contented snore
plant a kiss on her cheek
and let her turn towards the false fireplace and raindrops
and let her rest