Bitter Melon, Chapters 1-2

8/13/2019 Bitter Melon, Chapters 1-2

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BITTER

MELON


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BITTER

MELON

poems by

ELVIS ALVES


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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I remain grateful to the editors of the following publications in which

some of the poems in this collection appeared: A Morning in Harlem in

Stepaway Magazine; Subway inThe Applicant; River People, Stardust and

At the Park in Rufous Salon; Quetzalcoatl in Garbanzo Literary Journal;

Left Behind in Colere; Obeah Grandmother in Caribbean Writer Journal

and First Reads; Blessings, and Morceau in Lalitamba.

This book would be impossible to bring to form without love and

support from my family and friends, Otis Alves, Wynita Alves, Khania

Curtis, Clara Freeman, Fidelis Ojevwe, Eric V. White, Dionne Dixon,

Sophia Ward, Toren Curtis, Beverley Curtis, Rhovan Curtis, Joseph

Kramp, Pangernunba, Laurence Berkowitz, Nicholas Prior, Judy and

Howard Segall, and Eugene Bernie Kendrick. I am thankful for spir-

itual and moral support received from members of Lafayette Avenue

Presbyterian Church, especially Rev Carmen Mason-Browne, Annette

Leach, Selma Jackson, Peaches Diamond, and Edward Moran. I am en-

couraged by fellow writers, Keisha-Gaye Anderson, Tishon Woolcock,

Cheryl Boyce-Taylor, Elizabeth Nunez, Anton Nimblett, and Caits

Meissner. I am grateful for Peter Poulos, Jennifer Heron, Maria Felix

and fellow chaplains at New York Methodist Hospital who do ministry

with utmost compassion and resilience in the face of all that life offers.

Last but not least, thanks to my former professors and mentors at Col-gate University and Princeton Theological Seminary, Harvey Sindima,

Nancy Devries, Tom Howard, Margaret Darby and Peter Paris.

There are so many more people upon whose shoulders I continue to stand.

Thank you.


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for Marcel and Shelly Alves


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Annual Encounter

I BITTER MELON

Eden

Moon Love

Bitter Melon (One)

Bitter Melon (Two)Bitter Melon (Three)

II A MORNING IN HARLEM

Determination

Sisyphus

A Morning in Harlem

Animal Farm

Malcolms Jazz

pruitt igoe

III HIP HOP

Fall

Musicians Commune

Hip Hop

SubwaySoul City

On Waiting

River People

IV QUETZALCOATL

Quetzalcoatl

Left Behind

Sancocho

Moses

Amistads Cook

Leftovers

Yoruba Woman

CONTENTS

1

4

5

6

89

14

15

16

17

18

20

24

25

27

3031

32

33

36

37

38

39

40

41

43


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Birthing

Ixchel

Preparation

Agave Plant

V PANTHEON OF ANGELS

American ApocalypseNameless Abyss

Seeing

Obeah Grandmother

Blessings

Climb

Recycle

Kikiyu Princess

Pantheon of Angels

Beautiful Imperfections

Stand

Becoming

Rich Dreams

Stardust

VI THE INCAPABILITY OF THESUSPENSION OF MORAL JUDGMENT

WHEN THE TOPIC IS RACE

Naming

We Were Always Here

Tuskegee Experiment

At the Park

The Incapability of the Suspension of Moral

Judgment When the Topic is RaceLucilles Twenty Dollars

Moreceau

Karma

Bitter Melon (Redux)

44

45

46

47

5051

52

54

56

57

58

59

60

61

63

64

65

67

71

72

73

74

76

77

79

80

83


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1

I am waiting for you at the caf for a late afternoonrendezvous

Soon you will walk through the glass door and

casual entreaties would be exchanged between us

as usual

How are you?

Hug

Kiss

Some form of embrace

We will sit and talk about events that occurred in the space of time

since we last saw each other and now

Tomorrow, I will forget more than half of what was said by you,

by me

I will also forget the feel of your

Hug

Kiss

Some form of embrace

By then, though, we will have already agreed to meet again

at the same place, around the same time next year

ANNUAL ENCOUNTER


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I

BITTER MELON


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4

Come and stand with meunder the tree of good and evil

Here, we will pontificate,

elaborate on the meaning of these

days that fall and touch our feet

pushing carnal desires along

paths ahead of us

Paths leading to places we

fear to go until courage invades,

opening our hearts and minds

to possibilities beyond the gates

of Eden

EDEN


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5

Even the moon wanes at the end of the night,

Returning to where it came;

A rising star, with golden crown, taking its place: Champion of

The Day

Stay with me

Do not go

If you must go, do not travel far

I am a dwindling star of the night, unable to shine bright out

of your sight

I am a man of taste, of class, of dreams, some of which die fast

and others die slow

Even the moon wanes at the end of the night

Yes, indeed, it does

But some things are eternal like God, love, a comforting touch

or smile

Stay awhile and talk to me

I am a man of few wordsI try to be a good listener

I work on this trait as a diligent farmer cares for his

crop in the fieldbecause food and life are the same and you are

food to my life

I mold my thoughts around yours and respond only if I must

Let us grow together

Let our love not wane,

even if the moon must

MOON LOVE


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6

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, andthey become one flesh (Genesis 2:24)

I

My mother met my father at a dance party. Both were 24 years old.

The dance party was held at a venue called Dancehall in the village

where my father was born and lived. He worked as a police officer.

My parents were introduced to each other by a mutual friend.

II

My mother was once engaged to the brother of the mutual friend.

The mutual friends brother, formally my mothers fianc, died in an

accident. My mother rarely talks about the accident. On that rare

occasion, she says it was a motorcycle crash, failing to divulge details

about the crash or the fianc it carried through deaths door.

IIIOn the night that they met, my mother said that my father tried

to persuade her to come home with him. As if to encourage her to

give in, he, according to my mother, said that he only lived with his

mother, father, brother, and sister. My fathers charms did not work

the first night he met my mother.

IV

Few weeks after the initial meeting, my father was able to persuade

my mother to visit his parents. People in the village took interest

in the visitor. She was quite beautiful, a fact that was in contrast

(according to my mother) to the other women that the police officer

had dated.

V

The young woman arrived in the village, sitting on top of the handle

bar of the police officers new bicycle. She was a light skinned black

woman. This aspect of the color of her skin gave the young woman

immediate high status in a community that attached beauty to skin

color, with the color white at the top of the beauty scale.

BITTER MELON (ONE)


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8

Woman, here is your son (John 19:26)

Diced pieces of a canoe shaped vegetable cook to perfection, green

becomes brown when tomato sauce mixes with minced garlic,

chopped onion, salt, black pepper, assorted spices,

dressed with oil bubbling in a pot.

Bitter melon is an acquired taste; something to grow into like an

oversized pair of shoes.

You will learn to love her, my mother says, as she throws pinches of

curry powder into the simmering pot with the left hand and stirs its

contents with a wooden spoon held in the right hand.

The rapid genuflections of her hand remind me of the action of a

Hindu woman dipping and throwing specks of gold dust held in a

bowl atop the bared heads of jhandi flags as these symbols of faith and

good fortune dance in the wind, dodging the flakes thrown at them.

Bitter melon is gold of the food world that nobody desires, I think but do not

say aloud, wondering if my mother had learned to love my father by

the time I was born.

BITTER MELON (TWO)


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9

and the greatest of these is love (1Corinthians 13:13)

I was going to write you a letter but hope that a poem will

suffice, not in arguing my pointswe, I mean, I, did enough of

that last night

You called me self-righteous

You were angry

We were out and I dropped you off at your place without telling

you why, that is, until you asked and I still had problems saying why;

The engine of the car making noise, speaking for me

The act of driving to the front of your house, unbeknownst to

you, to me, was visceral. The muscular memories in my hands and

stomach coordinating a successful sabotage of love

I apologized then and there. Ignoring the apology, you said that

you would remain the person you are, you wont change for me

and I should accept you or else

You did not finish the or else (even though I wanted you to, I did

not push you)

Instead, I asked, what is wrong with change, especially if it is forthe better?

You called me self-righteous and that I have standards, high

standards

(I could have asked whats wrong with having high standards, but

that would have proven that I was self-righteous) And so I did not

say anything

You cried. And before we drove off to the bar, you started to

apologize for the tears. I said No. Dont.You asked why. I said,

BITTER MELON (THREE)


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10

because they allow you to name your feelings; Something I was unable to do

Maybe I need to cry more often, I thought to myself

The football game was on television at the bar. There were also a lot

of beautiful women at the bar

You caught me checking out one of them. I said I am paying attention

to you; you are the most beautiful woman here. I was telling the truth

You pointed out girls, telling me that the one with the afro is cute. I

said, No. She is not. I dont like her body typetoo skinny

You pointed to one of the waitresses (indicating that she is hot and I

disagreed)

We agreed that the bartender was cute. I then caught myself,

expressing the fear, I hope you are not into girls. I told you about my lastrelationship and

I am not a lesbian, you hurriedly responded

At that moment, I remembered as we sat in the car in front your

house you told me that you did not love your ex-boyfriend in a total

way (the way that you should have)flaws and alland that this was

not the case with me. You love me for all that I am

I appreciate your honesty but we have brought some baggage with us

into what we are trying to build in terms of a relationship

I appreciate that you are able to lay out your baggage for us to look at

I need to work on returning the favor


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II

A MORNING IN

HARLEM


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19/25

15

Oh motherless childwhere will you run to?

Come eat the fruits of your labor

though they are bittersweet

Sometimes the worlds broad shoulders

are unable to carry the turmoil

borne of corruption, leaving bits of humanity

hanging like dead leaves on an almost

bare tree

Falling prey to despair

Encouraged only by the instinct of survival,

we become the animals we were created to be

The stranger walks the night without friends at his side,

the hunger of an abandoned, orphaned child is his companion

Run to the river and lay in its wet bed

Let the river wash shame and guilt that have

accrued through the years: You have always been

innocent

Motherless child; death does not call your name

Motherless child; earth is more than capable of sustaining you

When the weight of the world is on your shoulders, do not submit

like Sisyphus

Push it off and run!

SISYPHUS


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21/25

17

Cats fall from the skyThunder cries softly,

juxtaposed to heavy, drunken

howling of a camp of canines,

the dark flesh of night covering their fiery

crazed eyes

Cows and horses restlessly walk

to empty troughs long abandoned by

pigs, land-bound scavengers whose vocal leaders

stood on shaky soap boxes recruiting

members to the rebellious foldwith the slogan, the chickens have come

home to roost

ANIMAL FARM


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23/25

19

lllRosewoodblack haven turned home

to death running wildfrom your trees

hang more than leaves

Rosewood, no longer comforted by black souls,

is left in the charge of invaders who patrol with

ammunitions that do not signal manumission

Horses lay basking in the sun; slumped over with

exposed cavernous stomachs stitched tight with

potatoes, squash, and collard greens rummaged from

fields once planted by black hands now hanging from trees

IV

One bright morning, when this life is over, Illfly away

to

St. Louis, Missouri

and

Boston, Massachusetts

then

New York, New York and join

the OAAU


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20

name that place inthe land of jazz.

name it in saint

louis, missouri.

hands rest in pruitt

igoe. hands that

once belonged to

children now holding

onto what is left

of life like the last

cornerstone of a

building before it

is razed, no longer

capable of with-

standing mass decay.

outsiders came. the

mothers welcomed

them to the land ofrefuge that was once

pruitt igoe in name.

the fathers were not

home. the government

always has its say. they

give you money to make

you their slave. now you

are mute, hungry, nakedand without shame. now

you are addicted to

chemicals put on your

plate. a plate that shines

and blinds the knowledge

once seeping from the

hidden regions of your

closed, dark, beautifuleyes. now you do not

see clearly. you are a

blur on the map of a

world steadily crumbling,

falling to pieces, pulling

PRUITT IGOE


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you to your consummatedemise. you cannot run

from danger. you are not

lucky like the overfed

rats and multitude of

roaches that call your

home their home. they

can move; scurry from

death. you are stuck.

there is no place to go.

the grave has become

your palace. you live in

pruitt igoe.

Bitter Melon, Chapters 1-2

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Transcript of Bitter Melon, Chapters 1-2