Indifference
Let it come
the Hade’s moment
let it come
I won’t be here
save my knocking
on doors fallen inward
when I call
the world’s hungry
to come and feast
of our Easter table
Let it come
the freedom moment
let it come
I won’t be here
save the trace of fingers
over your lustful body
when I explore
its crypts
with fingers hungry and
lips equally devoted
excerpt
…of skull, which gleamed in the firelight. I put the gourd down right
after the first man stopped eating. This was the time they used yopo,
ashes that made them behave oddly and see things that weren’t
there.
I was happy to see them inhaling those ashes and smoking, falling
into a stupor that only they understood. I disappeared into the
darkness when they had forgotten about me and barely made it to
the stream before falling on all fours and spewing my guts out.
I was rinsing my mouth to get rid of the greasy taste of the
monkey when a hand came to rest on my shoulder. Startled, I turned
to find Apacuana outlined against the dark blue, starry sky.
She didn’t speak, just knelt beside me and took my face in her
hands, caressing the shaven skin. I could see her eyes taking in every
detail. I wanted to pull away, to say something, but couldn’t. I was
like an animal suddenly blinded by fire that doesn’t flee from the
arrow.
She was the fire and her lips the arrows that pierced my heart
when she kissed me. I had never felt like that. My heart nearly burst,
and something below my cord jolted into life as a maddening
throbbing took hold of me. She was shivering, too, and I don’t know
how we came to be lying on the river’s edge surrounded by reeds.
Her skin smelled of plantain, of ashes, of fire, of freedom. She
knew what she was doing when she touched me, sending me into a
paroxysm of desire. I don’t know how my hands came to be upon
her breasts. Her legs were opening, placing me between them. There
was a nagging voice in my head telling me: Who’s going to know? Just
once. Just to know how it is.
excerpt
“God had nothing to do with it,” Finn roared, thumping the arm of the chair. “The boy was going to live anyway. Padraig poking his nose in, muttering his abracadabra prayers, didn’t make the slightest bit of difference.”
Caitlin was kneeling on the rug on the kitchen floor near Finn’s feet, sewing embroidery on the smock of a dress. The firelight from the range shone on her face and arms, and they glowed like the burning turf. She wore a heavy green dress with a white, woollen shawl draped across her shoulders. Her fingers moved deftly at their work. She watched the pattern of coloured thread inching across the smock and avoided looking at Finn. He was unable to see the confusion in her eyes.
Finn scraped out the bowl of a pipe with an old, white-handled pocket-knife. The blade was almost black and barely half of its original width, but it glinted along its sharp edge. Finn took a block of tobacco from a ledge beside him and began to pare it with the knife.
“If all we had to do was pray to God, we’d have no need of doctors,” he said. “What credit are you giving Dr Starkey when you say that Padraig’s prayers saved Joe-Joe Carney? Did Dr Starkey have nothing to do with it?”
Caitlin felt guilty and ungrateful. Four times a day, midnight as well as noon, the little doctor with the black bag and balding head had gone to the bed of Joe-Joe Carney. Once, when the boy’s temperature reached one hundred and seven and it looked as if the pneumonia would kill him, Dr Starkey stayed all night, heavy-eyed and stubbled, his face ash-grey, his cranial hoop of black hair in tangled disarray. Padraig had arrived as the doctor was leaving.
“I can do nothing more, Padraig,” Dr Starkey had said. “I can do nothing more.”
At Mass Padraig asked everyone to pray for Joe-Joe Carney. And Joe-Joe recovered. The people in the village said it was a miracle.
“Miracle, miracle, miracle,” Finn fumed. “They don’t know the meaning of the word. Everything that happens these days is a miracle.
excerpt
“I’m very happy to hear that, my uncle; what’s Bevan looking for, with this
message of his?”
Ibrahim looks him in the eyes and says, “Explosives! Can we get them for him?”
“What does he need explosives for?”
“It’s Bevan’s business; can we get them for him?”
“Of course, we can; how much?”
“Enough to fit in a briefcase, enough for a big bang.”
Ibrahim sits in his chair in the study and takes a deep breath; he looks at Talal
again and nods for him to take a seat. He takes a pen to write something down;
then changes his mind and says, “Don’t forget, no matter what happens and how
it goes down, Hakim is not to be involved, and it’s your responsibility to make
sure of that; am I clear Talal?” Ibrahim’s eyes dive deep into Talal’s, as if he’s to
get Talal’s soul to swear to it right there.
“I promise you, my dear uncle, Hakim’ll be kept out of it, no matter what.
Ahmed has met a few American punks who will find what we need. When that
happens, I’ll make sure Ahmed leaves and returns home.”
“Very good, very good. You have money for all this, I suppose. We’ll talk
about this again; now go and rest. The servant will call you soon for dinner.”
Emily has been in the guest room for a while; it’s quite a large bedroom with
its own bathroom and a small sitting area on the side. The floor is decorated with
large tiles in light and dark earth tones; the bathroom is huge and the tub big
enough for two. There’re two windows and a door opening onto a large balcony
overlooking the grounds filled with colourful trees and shrubs. She’s standing
outside on the balcony when Talal comes in and hugs her. They stay there
looking toward the garden below with the desert sun still quite high in the sky.
It’s 6:30 in the evening and the temperature is a comfortable 30+ degrees on this
first day of October. He kisses her lips.
“Welcome to my country, sweet Emily.” He leaves her to examine every little
detail of the room as he steps into the shower.
The maid comes and gets them for dinner at 8:30 p.m. Ibrahim and Mara are
waiting for them, and to Talal’s surprise, Rassan and Abdul, the two guards, join
them for dinner. The dining room is huge and can accommodate more than
twenty diners sitting; the table and chairs are a different style from what Emily is
used to in the United States, yet they are very functional and comfortable. For
dinner tonight there are six of them.
Emily and Talal are seated to the right of the head where Ibrahim sits, but there is
a seat left vacant between them and Ibrahim. Mara sits to his left, then there is an
empty seat and the two guards sit next to that. Mara leans across the table and says to
Emily, “This is Hakim’s seat to your left; nobody sits there except Hakim.”
Hellenic Canadian Literature 