Fierce Departures: The Poetry of Dionne Brand

she is a woman who is losing the idea...

she is a woman who is losing the idea of mathematics, the maximum is so small, the crushed spines of vehicles fly in the air, all September, all October where’s the flour, the nighttime stories, where’s the sugar for the tongue’s amusement, muscle and likeness, now she wishes she could hear all that noise that poets make about time and timelessness come throw some water on her forehead, look for the butterflies so wingless, the oven is freezing with a steady, steady cold 34 / Fierce Departures ...