Hive Ave Fall2024 - Flipbook - Page 7
Hive Avenue Literary Journal
Poetry
Could you Translate?
Laila Jones
I could learn Mandarin in a years’ time,
move and settle into Singapore,
gardens by the bay, safe and in the know,
more foreign to truth than any language.
I am well versed in lies, for I used to eat them.
fed by many I’ve loved, lies regurgitated,
spoonsful of colorless, tasteless words,
my mind adds 昀氀avor, I would go hungry
otherwise.
my perception of love? I don’t know.
food and shelter, a warm woman’s home.
eighteen candles, gifts under the tree.
cooked meals and good schooling,
lessons of life, I am prepped & primed.
love was making sure I had it all.
tools for when it’s only me.
an independent woman raised
an independent woman.
forgive me, for I do not know good men well,
I know my father as a shell of a human
昀椀lled with coins, dollars, and gin.
I know men like hands,
covering my eyes and mouth,
I knew good men before the mask removals.
don’t paint me in ungrateful colors,
I shine in greens, browns, and pinks,
earth tones for my rich soul,
I am missing absolutely nothing in life,
how does one miss what she’s never had?
so, forgive me, my ears are hearing you,
and how you feel.
I just can’t understand you.
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