When I tie cracked mirrors
to the citrus trees
I can see the nights of my cousins
I do not laugh at their misfortune
as they still share my bed
Together we admire the stamps
issued in honour of my mother
Her name was Marie-Galante
She was the proud owner
of many oxen
I keep their decedents as pets
each in its own cage
suspended from the cross beams of my house
The house is called Victorine Lamal
After my housekeeper
She prepares my meals
and carves alignments
of the steel nights
as gifts for neighbours
In return they send me crabs
made from acid
Which I release into the wild
I am very fond of the parks of my town
but of late these spaces
have been troubled by snipers
Although I bring them daily meals
I am angered by these men
and arrange their poisoning
I sell their arms
and with the profits
I purchase more parks
I employ thousands but favour
the green keepers above all
as they are the collectors of leaves
I teach them grounded languages
and we share our amusements
In their spare time
they complete the detailed etchings
of maps not yet considered
So that the future generations
do not lose their way
They wonder at their talents
I have never revealed my sources