Close Reading

Talking in Tongues

By Frank X Walker

We knew to tiptoe quietly

if mama was on the land line

using her full lips to parse out

each syllable, carefully measuring

her words as if they were being

eye-balled and weighed

on the other end.

She saved that tongue

for bill collectors and the principal,

but if she used it to sound out my

whole name, everyone knew

trouble was coming.

The tongue she used for close friends

had sugar on it,

was filled with laughter

and warmth and music.

When they fell into small circles,

made words hold their breath,

change their color and meaning

and forced the rules of English

to take off its good wig,

it was not just speech class,

it was my first real poetry.