2/30 CASSAVA BREAD

sometimes on Sunday

mornings besieged

by poverty Mama

could not afford the foreign

blanched wheat flour from the grocer

instead there was the flat round world

of unleavened bread manna

from manioc grated wrung in

kitchen towel to squeeze

the poison-bitter water out

leaving flour to be mixed

with grated flesh

and milk of coconuts

baked in iron pots

then the albacore

caught by Papa

salted smoked and dried

corned fish or fresh slices fried

with freshly picked tomatoes

in oil of coconuts

and from a Blaupunkt

am-band radio

the Sunday morning sermon

blessed are the poor

seated round a wooden

kitchen table in the flat round world

of cassava

bread that said

the Arawaks are not dead

just consumed

with flesh of fishes

by missionaries

and fishers of men

smoke and steam

tongue-scorching

brimstone and hell-hot floating oil

in cups of home-

made chocolate roasted

pestle-pounded

in a dugout

greenheart

mortar

that has long outlived its maker

©2013 by G. Newton V. Chance