Seventh entry: Treading water

Amidst preparations for the TCF (Test de connaissance du français), academic stresses, and daily life in Paris, a bit of linguistic anxiety is to be expected where my mother tongue is swept away in the current.

 

aquaphobic

between short breaths of my own language,
I float through seas of syllables—
salty and raw on my lips
having only ever practiced
in swimming pools.

these living waters,
beautiful and dangerous,
while far from familiar,
grow comfortable enough
that I may lay back and float awhile.

then that thing
touches my leg.

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