Bounty and Twenty Poems to Read on the Streetcar Senior Thesis ...

Traveler Dreams
I
I asked him <strong>to</strong> explain
the one word I hadn’t unders<strong>to</strong>od.
He said “I’ll show you. Touch my arm.”
I <strong>to</strong>uched his arm. He bit off my h<strong>and</strong>.
II
The judge doesn’t speak English
<strong>and</strong> the witnesses don’t speak Spanish
<strong>and</strong> I have <strong>to</strong> translate
my own defense.
III
When I s<strong>to</strong>pped speaking my <strong>to</strong>ngue began <strong>to</strong> shrivel in my mouth <strong>and</strong>
eventually it fell out. I woke one morning <strong>and</strong> saw it lying on my pillow, gray
<strong>and</strong> dry, <strong>and</strong> when I tried <strong>to</strong> pick it up it crumbled <strong>to</strong> dust in my h<strong>and</strong>s. I
brought my fingertips <strong>to</strong> my face <strong>and</strong> they carried no scent of earth or ash or
flesh or rot; they smelled of nothing.
‘Dumb’ has two meanings for good reason, but I have found that the worst part
of lacking language is not lacking wit. Nor identity. The worst is lacking use.
When my brother wept, I could only cough. When my sister asked me for
advice, I shook my head <strong>and</strong> kissed her cheek with dry lips.
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