So You Think You’re a Polyglot?

Does this happen to anyone else? You’re minding you own business when along comes some random word and it takes a dump in your head!

Slowly you become aware of that dogshit-in-the-house odor. You go in search of it, checking your shoes every 10-12 feet. You open the door into your head and there it is, the pile of crap, dead center on the carpet, soft poop on a mid-high shag. You have been dumped on and now you own it. It lives with you.

That’s what happened to me with the word “polyglot.” What sort of word is that to have stuck in your head? I had to look it up: When it's a noun, “polyglot” means someone who is fluent in many languages. Then it sat there in my head, stinking to high heaven, until I wrote a poem about a person who needs to speak several different languages but who is stuck with only one, and it is inadequate. Plus, I made the sections into 55 words each so that I could share the stench with the world-renowned G-Man, Mr. Knowitall Himself!

Languages You Don’t Speak

I.
Who is this stranger living in your home
eyeing you bitterly, wishing you dead?
who is this misbegotten manchild
who once flung himself into your arms
with a toddler’s faith in you, his god
almighty? Now you are his nemesis
you walk on broken glass
to say I love you, son
and you wonder: really?

II.
Your bedfellow, your partner
your opponent strikes the high lob
that sends you racing for the corner:
why don’t you… in reply you slice:
If you’d only… and then the backhand:
you’re so... all over the court
a series of mad dashes defending yourself
against the constant barrage
in a conversation of love, or war.

III.
It was like a dream, she said
the corners of her mouth bloody
your mother, emerging, soon to walk
on that new hip, and later
her dream becomes your nightmare
as sundown madness steals her mind
and you say please doctor
do something besides tie her hands
this is my beloved mother
this infantile lunatic

IV.
The sound of you
is the sound darkness makes
spreading from a lake of streetlight
yet you rise, greet the day
endure the day, then return
lie on your sleepless bed
for a night of marauding thoughts
the sound of your groaning
so weighted with silence
you could hear a fly drop
to its knees

(Click on the G-Man's link to see what others are doing with their 55 words.)