Foreigner [January]

my flesh feels foreign to me
too loose over my hips
and taut over my joints
this strange skin holding me together
empty like the stares
of strangers that I pass
I flex my fingers and square my shoulders
try to fix the line of my jaw
look like I belong
steps heavy on the pavement
as if my roots have grown here
all along

english tastes bitter on my tongue here
sticks stubbornly in my ear
my voice falls apart like ashes
and dies in my throat
I slip between cracks of conversation
like a tiny weed between paving stones
unnoticed
I smile and smile
pretend to understand

I feel the silence claw its way into my mouth
and force my lips to laugh
at all the jokes I don’t recognise

---

I started this poem in September 2016 and finished it in February 2017. It’s the first time I’ve been able to write about feeling so displaced despite living in the country I was born in and interacting in my native language. I’m not entirely happy with it and may rework it later, but at least I tackled something I’ve been avoiding for a while.