Vernacular, digestible
She wraps her tongue, now split
To accommodate the words that have to come in a timely fashion
Accommodate! Hey foreign girl, spell me that.
She clicks and taps, backspaces much too much
Mother would not like a girl who does that
Lady ignoramus, she flashes back a look
Who on Earth can read that?
From the basket on the floor, the snakes raise their heads
The vocal dark is now as dirty as it gets
They slither to the ceiling and form a cloud
The girl wants me to spell it out for her
There – I make the mark with my bad hand
For her to trace, like a child would.
I have never had to ask for all the good I have,
for it is written!
The wit is dimmed, then flickers. She wants to say
What is on her mind, weighing at her temples
Like a gin in heat
She wants to self-lobotomize her pretty foreign head
So she can sleep, a little
Now that the surliness of snakes has formed a night
Nobody will come to set this broken grammar right.

Take me home