Selected poems from Althea Romeo-Mark’s Palaver
Palaver. Downtown Poet’s Co-op, New York, 1978
Nager Man
Bokrah
man
lashing
whip ‘pon back.
Nager
man
lashing
whip ‘pon back
when
slavery
done
gone long time.
Colonialism,
independence,
cultural
identity
nager
man
lashing
whip ‘pon back.
*Bokrah
man-white land owner
Poverty
De
sun come idlin’
over
de hills,
removin’
de shadows
from
de tree limbs,
revealin’
de pickinagers
playin’
in mud
an’
eatin’ dirt
like
tis dukanah an’ saltfish,
an’
dey wishin’
de
dirt stains
wus
grease stains.
*Pickinagers:
children
*Dukanah:
a dish made of plantain or sweet potato and boiled in fig leaf.
No Teeth Nana
Ol’
no-teeth Nana
suckin’
sugar cane
an’
lickin’ stray juice
off de side of ‘er mouth
know
everyting.
You
can see it
in
‘er eyes.
dey heavy an’ grey
an’
deep set,
threatenin’.
She
see me girl, Geraldine,
climbin’
out me window every mornin’.
She
be peepin’ through dem cracks
in
‘er splintered door
while
stoopin’ on de floor.
She
stare pon me real hard.
'Er
eyes double-knotted ropes
teasin’
me neck when
I
tun de corner on de street
where
she sit an' spit tobacco juice
between
‘er cane chewin’.
Nana
be chewin’ hard thoughts.
One
day she goin’ tell
‘cause
‘er eyes getting’ harder,
cold
as blue marble.
She
goin’ spill ‘er guts out.
Every
word she speak
is
gospel truth.
Cha-cha Town’s Blackbird
She
wears a long, black dress,
black
stockings, black shoes
and
a black straw hat
plaited in the old French tradition.
When
we buy her bags in Cha-cha town,
she
greets us with a shy smile.
It
breaks away from her wrinkles,
stretches the corners of her line-thin mouth.
Her
one-room wood house
sits
in a yard cluttered with
children
and chickens.
Afternoons,
almost
hidden between straw piles.
she
swings in a hammock
fitting the length of her house.
An
unfinished straw bag
rides
her heaving chest.
Her
gaping mouth
emits
a satisfied snore
after
a meal of bread and herring.
“Moushay
blackbird,” we call her
in
our garbled French,
misunderstanding
her
peasant wear and ways
in
the midst of our
black,
West Indian World.
(@) Althea Romeo-Mark, 1978
Your poem really explores the West Indian culture. I enjoy reading your work.
ReplyDeleteImagery, authentic, gripping, real, nostalgia are some of the words that come to mind while reading your work, Athea Romeo-Mark. I am transported to your home and watch the cane juice wander down the the crevice of Old Nana's mouth before it's escape is curtailed by her skillfull tongue, reminisce over the tartness of the plantains, awake to the sun sneaking over the walls of the night hills and mourn for the travails our captive ancestors as we give thanks for a freedom that we have, sadly, too often, grown to take for granted. Bien fait, Althea Romeo-Mark.
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