Verso 2.2.1
On the train, is that when I should say the clerk emerged?
She was before me, she was always with me. She was a
stevedore stowing cargo for one of my grandmothers, Luisa
Andrade from Venezuela. I met her on Luisa’s piano with
the photographs. But that was in another language. Luisa
threw a man into a pit and covered him with sand; when
he got up she had mothered his six children, stitched racial
discord among them, subjected them to photographs for
the piano and left for her grave. She came from La Guaira
on a steamer on the 18th of a certain month. You are
making that up. Well Cumaná then. Guaira. She became
legend. I did not know her name until a few years ago.
You never asked. She was legend.
Copyright © 2018 by Dionne Brand. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.