Little

little russian tears
pouring into american soil
we just dont speak the same language
I
have forgotten the words for turtle and whale
remember return
but don’t know how to paint the entire picture
see how
grandmother
never got to read my poems
native tongue slipping
cant cut the tension
with secondary weapons
or tools
or maybe its always been both no matter what sounds
are caught slipping
now
tears shed on american soil
encompassing russian bodies
and I dont know
in what language she’ll hear me
or if she watched me let her go
lips glued together
sort of smiling
like it was never about language
always
just about letting go.