Poetry
A Brackish Silence / Roseline Mgbodichinma
In your poetry workshop
The teacher unmutes himself and throws a word
He says - estuary; write a poem with estuary
You google this coastal body of water,
How this tidal mouth of a river is your mother's tongue
& prayer is a place where freshwater becomes saltwater
You try to understand the translations on your body
The burrowing on your chin is how you hold an amen to light
Knowing your supplications will remain unanswered.
Halleluya is a brackish stream of consciousness
Or how else does a mother raise her hands to god
While offering her child an elbow
Silence is vernacular for loss
Because you asked your mother how many times
You left her body before you became whole
And she said nothing
Instead, she unearths herself
& points to a river as pale as your skin
You stare at the conflation of water
You wonder what parts of you were made from algae.