by Suzanne Hermanoczki
Letter by letter, on the litter of another language I have stopped the torrent of grief and jouissance that would have been the end of me had I written in my mother tongue. Mother. Mater. Matter.
(Dominique Hecq, Hush: A Fugue)
Mother. Moth. Her. Tongue. Tung. Tuh. Ng.
She. He. Tonne
Here! H[EAR]! Née.
¡Mamá! ¡Madre querida de mi corazón!
Maman Mad. Ray.
Light. Sun. Son. He died. Il est mort. Je suis désolée.
Drunk (The mad) King. Laughed.
Ha! Off with her head!
[Suzanne Hermanoczki is a writer and teacher of creative nonfiction and fiction. Many of her works centre on: death narratives and photography, trauma and the immigrant journey, code-switching and bi-cultural identity. She has a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Melbourne, where she teaches.]