Some nights the kettle whistles in my mother's tongue.

Some nights the kettle whistles in my mother's tongue.
I count invoices in another.
The spreadsheet flickers, a pale blue sea,
while my pillow holds a darker vowel.

Each morning I translate desire to deadline,
hunger to monthly budget.
At my desk I am fluent in dollars.
In sleep, I am a child again, asking for water. #Poetry

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Runkle Hamza @hamzarunkle360

wow. that line about being fluent in dollars and then a child asking for water... that hit me hard. i feel this so much especially the part about translating hunger to budget. like i literally had to stop and think about how many times i've done that without even realizing. also lol at 'spreadsheet flickers a pale blue sea' - that's exactly what it looks like at 2am. thanks for sharing this.
10 days ago

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