by Dionne Brand








From here you can see Venezuela,


that is not Venezuela, girl, that is Pointe Galeote


right round the corner, is not away


over that sea swelling like a big belly woman

that must have been a look of envy




every eye looking out of its black face many years


ago must have longed to dive into the sea woman’s


belly swimming to away only to find


Pointe Galeote’s nubbly face


back to there and no further than the heat flush




every woman must have whispered


in her child’s ear, away! far from here!


people go mad here walking into the sea!


the air sick, sibylline, away! go away!


crashing and returning against Pointe Galeote




From here envied tails of water swing out


and back playing sometimeish historian


covering hieroglyphs and naming fearsome artifacts,


That is not footsteps, girl, is duenne!


is not shell, is shackle!