There are eight people in my family, only one speaks English.
I was born with Yoruba, at thirteen I came to English.
Before my tongue’s baptism, I was tied
To silence; I’d learned the stupid speak Yoruba, the smart, English.
Once, a boy from my new school denied
His mother to me because she knew no word in English.
Grandma bought me my first dictionary the day I came home to hide
An old raggedy textbook called New Practical English.
On mother’s proud days, I was the dictionary on which she relied—
D.M., a name I found, shortly after her death, through English.