Mispronounce It

Coming home to find yourself foreign is the surest way to know that you’ve grown. All your familiars are feelers again; reaching, and retching, and relearning all the sharp edges that cut when you can no longer navigate the ways home with your eyes closed.

My heart has many homes, and this means that sometimes home feels like being alone.

My heart is a nester. My heart is a flirt. My heart spills holy water on the floors in pools and puddles to play in what was almost the rain. My heart is a courtesan. My heart is a jester. My heart is citizenry dismantled; a stomach-dropping, galavanting, giggling fool of a schoolboy…
my heart
runs wild.

Coming home to find yourself foreign is a test. It feels like an itch in phantom limbs, stretching to fit the mold of your body that you left in your sheets… wondering if these clothes will ever feel clean after all of the humanity they’ve seen.

My heart is a miner. My heart is a beast. My heart holds my head underwater and tells me to breath… so I know… so I can no longer be afraid of having drown. My heart is a climber. My heart is a hometown. My heart is levity in shambles; a radiant disaster, chauvinist, brimming black hole…
my heart is
a lovechild.

Coming home to find yourself foreign is disruptive.
My heart is at home on the road.
Coming home to find yourself foreign is punishment.
My heart sits still better when it doesn’t know.
Coming home to find yourself foreign
is chaos.
It’s a parasite
a virus
It’s an alley
a back way…
a slum

Coming home to find yourself foreign
is the furthest
thing
from a poem.

Ashley Wylde
March 24th, 2015

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s