these days I write transcripts 

family recipes 

tasted a thousand times and one

 

a call to my mom or aunt 

as I chop onions and cabbage

Where does the Scotch bonnet go? Why? 

That’s how it’s been done, darling 

and it’s been done 

well

 

a call to learn the steps 

to construct, deconstruct 

bastardize centuries of culture 

it’s a hobby

days away from the hospital 

like the hospital my grandfather cleaned

slowly I become my ancestors’ wildest dreams

 

my ancestors dreamt in Ewe then 

Haitian Creole 

with me 

English 

 

a dream they can’t comprehend

another language unpreserved 

in vinegar, in migration

a product of 

hegemony and stubbornness 

Southern U.S. schooling + child’s refusal 

= regretful adult

 

Haitian Creole-speaking patients 

gauge the origins of my name

familiarity crosses between eyes 

I stumble through phrases 

waiting 

for the iPad interpreter to speak