Granada Notebook #5

We sit down to black tea.
From the silver pot, the immigrant
waiter missing Algeria pours
the dark liquid into short glasses;
we soften its strength with sugar.
You tell us of your trip to Morocco      the veiled
woman who drew henna webs on your
hands    the short man who protected
you from his thespian friends before he stole
all of your money.

I imagine a rhinoceros graveyard    their hornless
bodies bursting with maggots for a white man's love    thick
knuckles    ivory rings on old women's fingers
writing poems with red and green thread    my great
grandmother sewing together swatches of her family's
clothes    passing its narrative on with a blessing:
fly away    fly away    fly away home.

The cool air brings Arabic children
singing with perfect Spanish accents.
During Ramadan they crave gazpacho and paella.

I will never forget the camel I rode
with my grandfather in Tangier    the stink
of its hair    its tall lumps shrinking as the sun
seethed    an Atlantic brimming with gold.

Myronn Hardy is a graduate of the University of Michigan and Columbia University. He is the author of Approaching The Center (New Issues Press, 2001).

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