Prelims

Look into any crowd, examine those who stand against the walls. Look for the grey men whose faces we cannot see, though they try to meet our gaze. These are the ones who huddle together, yet stay alone. These are the witnesses to the sheltering of our lives. They plug our roofs and shatter our windows. Listen to their crying out to warn; they plan for havoc, they dread the flood. The faults of all are listed, yet they will blame no one. They are not the ones who dream. They are not the ones who build. These men do not touch. And we can possess nothing unless they choose to whisper blessings over our heads. Pay them, or they will not speak. For their words carry the weight of our houses, our entire cities even. They know too much of us, our lives are read by our absences. This is a skill honed by years of tracing the inside of our masks.

Fawzia Kane

in collection Houses of the Dead, 2014, Thamesis Publications,
ISBN 978-0-992704-0-6

How to Breathe

Let’s pretend that you saw him,
once, say, sitting in a café
some bright day in autumn.
There is no wind. It is just before
three in the afternoon,
your arms are filled with flowers
for tonight, and there ahead
through just-cleaned glass,
he sits, he does not look up,
does not see you. And then
pretend there’s a woman
sitting across the table
from him. She leans forward,
her hair is long and straight,
like yours, it catches the sunlight,
and lingers on his neck, his shoulder.
They do not smile. Their hands
are on the table with fingers
touching at the tips,
and you notice that
your flowers have no scent.

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6;
first published in Poetry London, No. 52, Autumn 2005

douen

Children with feet turned backwards,
lost, and waiting with slow smiles
that linger cat-like after moving on.
These are the dead, we are warned.
Keep near the centre of burning pitch,
fear the dappled, the mixing
of blood, fear what you know.
These little ones weave echoes
through wailing sobs, so skilful
even the mockingbird is put to shame.
They hide their faces under
strange bonnets, the brims droop
like branches from silk-cotton trees,
their fingers beckon. You cannot resist.

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6;
first published in Poetry Wales Vol 41 no. 4,
Spring 2006, ISSN 0332-2202

Tantie Diablesse’s elegy on Betty Stiven

Let me make it clear, this wasn’t my fault.
She begged for my help, so I gave her
some bush tea, like all the other times.
But suddenly she let go, and just went quiet.
Her eyes couldn’t close.

They laid the child on her belly, then
it stopped breathing too.

When he got the news, he howled like a dog
at the moon. He even bent down,
with us, to put the two of them in the ground,
and had a master mason carve a tomb
from marble, imported from Italy.

To this day I can feel the calluses on her hand
when she grabbed me in pain.

I wasn’t supposed to look into his eyes, much less
spit on him. When they threw seawater
on my back, I didn’t scream.
Her memory alone is worth ten lashes.

Note: There is a grave in a small churchyard outside Plymouth, Tobago with the inscription: “Within these walls are deposited the bodies of Betty Stiven and her child. She was the beloved wife of Alex Stiven who to the end of his days will deplore her death, which happened on the 25th day of November 1783 in the 23rd year of her life.

What was remarkable of her was she was a mother without knowing it, and a wife without letting her husband know it, except by her kind indulgences to him.&#rdquo; No other known records of Betty Stiven exists.

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6
previously published anthology, Entering the Tapestry, 2003, Enitharmon Press,
ISBN 1-900564-48-3

Prelims

Fawzia Kane

in collection Houses of the Dead, 2014, Thamesis Publications, ISBN 978-0-992704-0-6

How to Breathe

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press, ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6; first published in Poetry London, No. 52, Autumn 2005

douen

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press, ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6; first published in Poetry Wales Vol 41 no. 4, Spring 2006, ISSN 0332-2202

Tantie Diablesse’s elegy on Betty Stiven

Fawzia Kane

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press, ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6 previously published anthology, Entering the Tapestry, 2003, Enitharmon Press, ISBN 1-900564-48-3

in collection Houses of the Dead, 2014, Thamesis Publications,
ISBN 978-0-992704-0-6

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6;
first published in Poetry London, No. 52, Autumn 2005

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6;
first published in Poetry Wales Vol 41 no. 4,
Spring 2006, ISSN 0332-2202

in collection Tantie Diablesse, 2011, Waterloo Press,
ISBN 978-1-9067424-1-6
previously published anthology, Entering the Tapestry, 2003, Enitharmon Press,
ISBN 1-900564-48-3