Trees and Threes
carlos torrijos
“Árbol” y “tres” no suenan igual
in español. Two words in different
worlds. Pero en inglés suenan
the same. Nomás un sonido subtle
to a child’s ear foreign to that lengua.
So, tiene sentido que I confused
them when I spoke. “Hay tree
threes.” ¿“O es three trees”?
“Tree.” “Three.” “Arbol.” “Tres.”
“Ok.” “There are tree threes.”
“No. Say it again to the recorder.”
“Mmmmmm.” “Ok.” “There are THHH-reee
TRRR-eees.” “Good.”
“Now, let’s play it back.”
My lengua y acento eran
algo to be kept under
control. Esas paredes blancas
y planas showed me where
I belonged. Fuera de vista -
encerrado. “There are TRRR-eee
THHH-reees..” I’m still missing my
marca. Entraba that room,
and I felt small -
sin valor. Mis palabras had been
sucked into a tape recorder – robadas –
como la voz de la sirenita en una
concha marina.
A veces siento que todavía
estoy ahí. When my acento
slips down my lengua
and fuera de mi mouth
into a mundo lacking
la tolerancia to accept
that there are lenguas
diferentes
everywhere.

Author Bio
Carlos Torrijos is a junior studying to become an English teacher at UTEP. He has performed poetry at events hosted by the El Paso Barbed Wire Open Mic Series and is a part of the Creative Writing Society at UTEP. Through his poetry, Carlos explores and expresses a range of emotions that come from his life experience and living in El Paso.



