Yeísmo

I’m learning a new language,
Only for my better self.

I may be unable
To navigate grey
Plastic-muzzling protocols
Of post-pandemic terminals,

Yet this time’s expended well.
Delightful rolls and

Lilts, the muscle like
Gondoliers gliding through
Venetian tongues of water,
Expressive swells, expansive

Canals of digraphs, sibilants
Lapping the foundations of

Verbs and nouns. My favourite
Habit is to hold the hips
Of conjugating mnemonic tips,
The linguist-loving lips.

No more the mundane forms,
The brutal tubers of unusual

Metonyms removed from mouths
Of Romans millennia ago,
Bemoaning the rain and food,
On frontiers far from home.

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