Sarah Lapean: "Mother Tongue"

Mother Tongue
 
The tongue that your mother put into your head
As you rocked in your cradle so soundly.
Spectral surgery she performed: 
Fleshy muscles and slimy veins sewn to your throat.
The dancing language twines with your attempts to tame it.
Tripping syllables hide among uncertain emphasis.
Cement lips when you try to speak, 
Wishing words were like milkweed seeds that could slip past your jaw. 
Does your mother tongue do acrobatics?
Curl and flex and press to form the simplest sounds?
Perhaps it is only trying to find a way to escape. 
From that crib, use your mother tongue 
To say Dada first.
Even biology is ironic. 

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Sarah Lapean hails from Vermont and attends Amherst College in Amherst, Massachusetts. She is pursuing a double major in English and Psychology. She enjoys knitting, kayaking, and baking cakes. 

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