On the tape, I'm five, my answers
to the speech teacher's questions
are hodgepodge sounds: pnk my fafoit cula,
and then hesitation, all the cula of the wainbow,
so I can wide coussell. My tongue

glides away from fluency. I don't like
Andwea zhe meen. But I can hear my smile,
I wana be a butwafly, zho phat I can
uzhe my anteni to unlck my cajhe and cume bck
wen I wan to. I'w hafe key.

It's a language I no longer use, a voice
within my voice, words I still can't say.
The differences between shoe and chew
is a breath that promises meaning
but does not blend the layers of sound.