We stumble into class, most
late, with our coffees and half-open
eyes. My Russian teacher smiles
at us. Her accent sneaks by
under the surface, subtle
but noticeable. It does not scream “Russian”
in the usual way, and it is only when she speaks
of learning English I know for sure.
Everything she says comes out soft, like she speaks
in one big myahky znak, the soft sign
I barely understand. She cannot
talk without smiling.
She quietly asks us to repeat
after her, and I nod my head, eager to make her
job easy. She always lets us out early.
Soft signs