Laleh Gupta
my family and i learn how to communicate
when we lose control of our tongues,
we learn how to bang on the table as
communication. when the caustic of our words
has serrated our mouths, we don’t forget how to
speak per se, but my father likes versatility so
this is how we train: a diorama of don’ts,
tracing the hollows on the countertop as a
mark of corrugated anger. this is how we
craft our very own language: one tap says,
look at me look at me hear me out.
two taps say, please listen! three taps say
PAY ATTENTION. we speak in the way of
neanderthals. feet banging on the floor:
could you pass me the salt, dad? fingers
tugging at t-shirts: now is not the right time.
fingertips touching fingertips: maybe one day,
when our language will fall back into our
mouths. a half-hearted tug of the lip: what
language, sister? a line traced from the eye to
the chin: sarcasm. shall i do that for you?
well, if you insist! yes yes i am free.
hand crossed over the heart is confrontation.
i don’t do that well, except when: a jump in the step is
honesty. we’ve never really been taught it.
see, there? honesty. here are all the gestures
i do not know, stuck on a loop, & here we stay,
a paused vinyl, until our puppet strings are
tugged upon once again.
we learn how to bang on the table as
communication. when the caustic of our words
has serrated our mouths, we don’t forget how to
speak per se, but my father likes versatility so
this is how we train: a diorama of don’ts,
tracing the hollows on the countertop as a
mark of corrugated anger. this is how we
craft our very own language: one tap says,
look at me look at me hear me out.
two taps say, please listen! three taps say
PAY ATTENTION. we speak in the way of
neanderthals. feet banging on the floor:
could you pass me the salt, dad? fingers
tugging at t-shirts: now is not the right time.
fingertips touching fingertips: maybe one day,
when our language will fall back into our
mouths. a half-hearted tug of the lip: what
language, sister? a line traced from the eye to
the chin: sarcasm. shall i do that for you?
well, if you insist! yes yes i am free.
hand crossed over the heart is confrontation.
i don’t do that well, except when: a jump in the step is
honesty. we’ve never really been taught it.
see, there? honesty. here are all the gestures
i do not know, stuck on a loop, & here we stay,
a paused vinyl, until our puppet strings are
tugged upon once again.
Biography
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Laleh Gupta (she/her) is a student from Maharashtra, India. Pretty buildings make her heart beat fast, and she likes puns, double-sided blankets, sentences that trail off, and... She is published or forthcoming in Claw & Blossom, The Meadow, [sub]liminal, and more. Her Twitter handle is @pparallell, and she turns 16 tomorrow!
Instagram: theresahoney Twitter: pparallell |
