Across the great divide…
They kept them hidden till I stepped inside
One for a birthday card,
Puzzled at first by what was there
And what was not. And what was there to hide?
Huge glossy frozen packs of pig’s feet, tripe,
Hog maws and chitterlings
And no promotions down the aisles
I recognised. The vegetables were ripe,
Yams, okra, sweet potatoes, peppers red
In every size and shape
To brighten up the place beside
The scrawny hot food bar whose contents read
Gizzards, neck bones, chitlins and catfish fried…
Fruit wines, grape wine, black Muscat blush…
I stooped and gulped, forced to a stop
By history across a great divide.
Uncomfortable, alive to a mistake,
I tried to show respect
For different habits and cuisine,
No matter how white was the frosted cake
And how blush-red my white embarrassed face,
But found the clerk and clutched
The card with colours so diverse
And, hoping, held it as a kind of grace.
