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apple is unable to transcribe
baba's naturalized speech.
out of Africa'
s lion's den
he strides, to
brave each stare.
npr says 40% of america
cannot read. others don't
really know what the
fourth
means, what spell it casts.
which flags forged,
what oath sworn.
this elderly black male
keeps driving.
an elderly white female, amai,
steers him. a wrong turn
or sudden brake would
launder them,
as in, shit,
they'd lose the little they
care to count on. folks,
obama has left the building.
she pushes play.
this hushed plea
: daughter, i, eh,
have not been able
to get a gift for your
mother. i cannot leave without her.
he does not say she clings.
he does not say she grasps. or falters.
daughter listens:
amai's birthday
was last friday. they all ate
home-made cake with candles:
7 and 9. the frosting was store-bought.
baba says softly
all he has to say.
he is too quiet
to be heard sometimes,
sometimes too angry.
his muted
mood is never blue. never
indigo, just
quiet. who fears death, he says,
trapped here?
his mother already lays
to rest in soil her untutored
hands first ploughed, her loss his
total eclipse. his daughter
is a doctor who cannot
heal anyone. she speaks
like an idiot child.
what must be understood
is not said with delusion's reach nor
as stubborn resort to the mother
tongue. throat caught on
english,
this...