Eleanor Wilner and Jayne Benjulian in Spillway
I stand on the shore of Long Island Sound,
east, my parents say, you can see Europe.
Somewhere between Madrid and Barcelona
my tongue touched the Castilian c,
the French r has to do with air
slipped behind a glottal stop
not quite stopped,
Russian consonants crash—
time lifts at the fault lines,
splits the ground we knew,
impassible: walk through.