$500 Ethiopia Poem by Bernard Henrie

Mother, will you soon send $500?
I wish we could share a ratatouille
lamb plate, huddle like spies over
hot masala; devour the guinea
squash of my boyhood memories.

I drive a cab along the waterfront,
the ocean reminds me of our sea
green zucchini, named courgettes
in New York, the best from Italy,
but i know you will always hate
the Italians for Mussolini's
invasion of Ethiopia 60 years ago.

Once, I cleaned our dram shop,
in a drunken voice you called
to your dead mother. My soul hides
a blunt question:

grandmother, raped by soldiers?
Is that why you and I are so fair
and hatred forges from your heart
a swollen Sahel dust storm?