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I left my shoes elsewhere.

They were embarrassingly dazzling, sequins

And fake jewels

Glinting in the sunlight.


(Not that there’s much sun in this country.)


I left my voice elsewhere.

It was too heavy to carry both, so I made the choice

Mastered the local tongue,

Though it still sounds off-key to me.

Too low: the sound of misunderstandings.


(Not that I seek understanding.)


I left my tastebuds elsewhere.

They made my neighbours glare at me over the garden fence,

Nostrils affronted by spices, gaze fixed

On the turmeric stains on my English blouse.


I left my culture elsewhere.


If you find it, will you let me know?

◄ Immigrant Infiltration

Elsewhere ►


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