“Aphasia” by Marisa Oishi
April 22, 2026
There are things I should be writing about
but everyone’s flight is canceled
and the air is biting the words out of my mouth.
I don’t know the word for powerlessness.
Everyone’s flight is canceled
and now trees are exploding too.
I don’t know the word for powerlessness
in my father’s tongue. I almost wish he’d teach me.
I’m scared the dogwood tree in my childhood backyard is going to explode.
There are things I should be writing about
like how my dad tried to teach me to speak his tongue.
There are words I was supposed to remember.
There are things I should be writing about
but these are things we should not be talking about
because these are things that should not be happening.
The snow blankets the path forward and I forgot my shovel back home.
“These are things we should not be talking about”
and I can’t find the rhythm of the song to sing next.
The snow is still falling, I still don’t have my shovel,
and now they’re killing the choir. They’re shooting the organ pipes.
I can’t remember the lyrics of the song they were singing.
I want someone to grab me and shake the words out of me.
They’re killing the choir and they’re shooting the organ pipes
and language is failing me just as I have failed it.
I want someone to grab me and shake out of me the words
to write the things I should be writing about.
Language fails when your tongue is stuck to a frozen pole.
The air bites the words out of my mouth.
This poem was written by Marisa Oishi, a member of the Youth Poetry Fellowship. Marisa was mentored by Amy Hirayama and Jourdan Imani Keith. Performed at the Seattle Arts & Lectures Encore Series event with Patrick Radden Keefe at Town Hall on April 22, 2026.
Posted in Student Writing Writers in the Schools Support 2025/26 Season