Muscle Memory
written by: T. Novak
I often wonder if my hands look the same as my grandmother’s,
and her mother’s mother’s,
I see it in my mother’s writing, the way she writes her “H,”
With a cursive sharp peak,
And elegant wave,
The “H” in my mother’s writing speaks in tongues
Sometimes when I write
I see the alien-like scripture
And my hand moves like my mother’s
And her mother’s mother’s
And my writing too, speaks in tongues
An immigrant who was only a citizen for two years, an immigrant for 20 years, with everything connecting to his heritage lost, aside from his passport, and pure Eastern European blood.
Latest posts by T. Novak (see all)
- Muscle Memory - October 1, 2026
- The Soil That Made Me - June 29, 2026
- Immigrant - March 14, 2026
