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Marriage Patois Poem By Megan Sexton

Marriage Patois Poem By Megan Sexton

After a thousand days,
our language is fixed
as the Madagascar-shaped mole
on your neck,
and the pink levees
of your eyelids.

Like avid expatriates,
we’re perfecting the accent
of our new country,
trading in the rug
of our old tongue.

I say fire the translators,
no more dictionaries.
We’re natives now
because last night
I dreamt I stood
in our garden
and spoke my name for you.
With each sound,

one of my teeth fell out,
and from each glyph they made,
in the dark loam,
a wild orchid grew.

Megan Sexton
first published in Prairie Schooner, vol. 74, no. 4,
Winter 2000

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