In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

45 Asleep in the Mapou [Son] Bend me oh Lord to the hungering earth. Bring me to the bed of stones and lie me there but not kindly. My dress is threaded with my lover’s eyes. Tell me my destiny in a low whisper. If I can make my body as beautiful as the Mapou tree, I’ll be ready to reckon with my coming from dust. Once, I watched my mother tie her hair with pins. I waited for her to cry out in pain but she never cried out. She knew the art of sharp objects against soft skin, as all women do. I lay on the bed much like this, wondering how one becomes a woman. ...

Share