The Russian she spoke
could have been Persian.
The sounds in her throat
she never had learned
as I would. She knew them
by heart not rote.
I asked her to speak it
not out of science
but with the motive
to take wont and break it,
with her compliance
to hear speech naked.
Such is our blindness
tongues we’ve used,
their forms of fineness
can never be heard.
We are amused
they ring so absurd.
Was it because
her language was foreign
I saw through like gauze
the customs we use,
past the decorum
to flesh and sinews?
How could her tongue,
fully unknown,
bear me the message
I needn’t possess
words to undress
her in some room alone?