| This Edition's Poetry |
N’est-ce pas?
I swallow French whole,
The nasal sounds, those impossible R’s,
The snobby attitude which accompanies the pretentious pose.
I watch you flounder, the conjugations wrong,
You never remember simple words, you sound as if
You’re eating rocks when you should be
Gloating about your impeccable
Taste.
Bien Fait, Madame says, swelling your head with pride and
Accomplishment. I tell myself that I get the, Excellent.
Bien Fait is for effort, not skill. Your tongue trips and stutters
While mine is walking on
Air.
By Thao Ho
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