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Callaloo 23.4 (2000) 1201



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Shoes

Phebus Etienne


Later, I remembered shoes.

"Shoes?" my aunt questioned
as I rummaged through my mother's closet.
We had chosen a coffin with silver etchings,
then moved along the rack of chiffon dresses,
some garnished with pearls at the neckline
and cuff. I thought of the wedding
my mother hadn't lived to see
before buying a tea-length dress
in cornflower blue. The rosary
I brought to her from Rome
would fall gracefully on the lace
gloves covering the incisions
made by the intravenous lines. As I examined

patent leather pumps, my aunt insisted,
"Haitians do not put shoes on the dead."
It makes it easier for wandering spirits
to step over the offerings, the candles,
dried thorns and retrace their steps
to find the living. I buy
silk slippers with a satin bow,
spray the white undergarments
with my mother's favorite perfume.
Each time I visit her grave, I clear
sharp rocks on the path leading home.
Sometimes I crumble
pieces of the rum cake she enjoyed along the road,
sit under the calabash and wait to be found.



Phebus Etienne, who studied at Rider University and New York University, was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, but grew up in East Orange, New Jersey. She has published poems in Poet Lore, Mudfish, Caribbean Writer, and Beacon Best of 2000.

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