In my country
walking by the waters
down where an honest river
shakes hands with the sea,
a woman passed round me
in a slow watchful circle
as if I were a superstition;
or the worst dregs of her imagination
so when she finally spoke
her words spliced into bars
of an old wheel. A segment of air.
Where do you come from?
“Here”, I said, “Here. These parts.”
Jackie Kay (1993)
ararenk 