What's the idea of this poem? My mother hangs up the phone
scrapes loose the tears
prepares to tell me
who is dying this time

I speak no Spanish
My mother is the translator
of the dying
My family is always the dying
I say family despite the fact
I have attended none of their funerals

My abuelita was a ricocheting ghost
She died once and I forgot
an entire language

Okay I didn’t forget
it just became inconvenient to remember
Who wants a language for the living anyway?

An inventory of my tongue
yields nothing
that looks like my mother
The resemblance stops at the mouth

She is fluent in a language
I am only ever ugly in
She falls asleep in front of the TV
her show muted
I wonder if in her dreams
I can speak