I waited for a train
for hours on the wrong track
on my way to you
no one standing on the platform but me
when I realized I was about to cross worlds
it was too late
you have
more countries
than me
embedded in your skin
all imperfect
more languages
under your tongue
all broken
more years
passed
in resplendent solitude
between your mother tongue
and your mother’s tongue
a deliberate difference                                                                                                                                   [noble savage]

Originally published in White Wall Review 40 (2016)