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43 Grandmother’s Luggage That time we raced with the falcons, Remember? Strapped on seats, sleeping But floating through the heavens, Soaring into nothingness. 64kg of luggage to stay balanced, But you sided with gravity In your plans to move Africa to America. Parcels, parcels and more parcels Of home-grown delicacies From anyone who voiced a familiar name: For Jenka’a; for Wakuna; for Kah Egusi and Eru, njangsa and janga – As I stuffed your compassion into our suitcases, You were weighed down by worries Of how the packets will arrive doorsteps. “Well, once they have crossed seas They will certainly cross streets,” You consoled. Soon I will again be your staff Supporting you over Africa and across America. Who knows what will pull us earthward this time. 44 You have already sighed about Kristel and Dwayne, More props of your grandchildren. You have grumbled that Andin and her American man Did not send home for Nahbila and Babila. Would names be part of our luggage this time? 15/02/07 Treacherous Hands A black woman Walks a homeless white dog Down a brown street. A creased hand holds the leash Like one which grew by a fireside Wrinkled by harsh amber flames. With knuckles hard and charred Resistant as placenta stains To anti-melanin lotions. Her complexion imprisoned In empty bottles of whitening creams Floating in dark septic tanks. ...

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