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