The Cipher

This is the character that cannot be written
This is the mark, but the ink will not dry
This is the word that is lodged in the gullet
like a temperamental chorine wearing high glossed boots
This is the grapheme that scours lips with its bristles
a red-raw ligature, rising like a slur
This is the symbol that keeps its meaning hidden
ties tongues in knots, unties familial bonds
To read it is to know there is no native language
read it and learn how histories rely on subterfuge
This is the ideogram for ‘citizen of nowhere’
and like all good ideograms it does not reveal
the sounds that must be used to say it.
This is the character that cannot be written
This time there will be no translation.