Speaking, gutturaly, in the fractured
fragments of a foreign language,
a tongue unknown to her
She is come from another country.
Gesturing with her hands
between islands of broken English;
But in her hesitations are the silent
stutters of clarity;
using her body as language
I know what she is asking
between the atolls of words
are the oceans of sterling imagery.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem