Lata Sings a Love Song







I should have kept it –

the tongue I grew up with,

the language of my mother

and her mother before her


Not so much for my own sake

as for my daughter’s, and

for the sake of the songs

I carried with me when we left


All else may be passed on

in a foreign tongue;

the stories, the memories, but

the songs won’t stand the tampering,

the tweaking, the translating


Listen to this one, I say

Isn’t it beautiful?

Glancing at her sideways,

one eye on the road,

my voice hopeful


They all sound the same

she says, tossing it aside

We are quiet then

for the rest of the ride


while in the background

Lata sings a love song 


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