I saw my dreams in the mortar pounded
And swift dripping from the brow of time
I saw me white like cassava flour
Ready to become anything on a hot grid
Neither bitter nor sweet
This lost of identity
This making me into mere bread as sublime.
So much is uprooted now
The fat root that sucked the life from stone
The leaves green and bronze like an Arawak
The child shivering in the dawn
Frightened, orphaned, and alone.