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- Herausgeber: Carcanet Poetry
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012
The six sequences of There Is an Anger that Moves travel from Jamaica to England and back. A mother's heart is broken; men fall in love secretly; people dance until they die. Religion haunts these disbelieving poems which move sometimes to the measure of a hymn, sometimes to the cadence of a Baptist sermon. Each swells with its own conviction, even when that conviction is doubt. Miller makes us believe in the power of unexpected things: the colour orange, broken coffins, ice cream and in the transforming power of poetry. From this book Kei Miller emerges as one of the most compelling and subtle new voices from the Caribbean.
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KEI MILLER
There Is an Anger that Moves
Contents
Title Page
I In This New Country
How we became the pirates
After all you do not know
Always under your breath
A whole song to the colour orange
The only thing far away
You say bomboclawt softly
Your dance is like a cure
How quickly you grow
Where we might fit
II The Broken (I)
I
II
III
Tangent a
Tangent b
Tangent c
IV
V
VI
VII
III Tongues and Prophecies
Speaking in tongues
the church woman goes through menopause
the church woman experiences Shekinah
the church woman visits a hospital
A hymn for Aunt Grace
Like how Sunday comes
New York poem (2006)
What the evangelist should have said
The silent things
IV The Broken (II)
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
V Testament
Book of Genesis
Book of Exodus
Book of Leviticus
Book of Numbers
First Book of Chronicles
Second Book of Chronicles
Book of Proverbs
Book of Songs
Book of Jonah
Book of Lamentations
VI There Is an Anger that Moves
In praise of the revolutionary properties of ice cream, but in particular, the flavour Chunky Monkey
In praise of the contribution of pots
Hurricane story 2004
A benediction for Bogle
For the girl who died by dancing
The candle we made
An allowance for Ula-May
The death of a fish woman
The discovered Ark
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Caribbean writing from Carcanet Press
Copyright
I
In This New Country
How we became the pirates
In this country you have an accent;
in the pub, a woman mocks it.
You want to ignore her but wonder
how many hearts is she being bold for?
Hate in this place
is restrained as the landscape,
buried, usually, under a polite ‘cheers, mate’.
And what a thing to mock –
the way we shape words differently.
But maybe it’s the old colonial hurt
of how we became the pirates, dark people
raiding English from the English,
stealing poetry from the poets.
So English poetry is no longer from England.
You swear – Lady, if I start a poem
in this country
it will not be yours.
After all you do not know
In this country, having just arrived,
you might be desperate enough
to buy plantains online – after all,
you do not know what is what
or where to find things like ground
provisions, or heat, or the sounds of your people.
At nights you look through the hopeful window
of a computer screen, waiting for Jamaica
to come falling through and fill your flat.
It will happen, you think, if you stay
awake, keep the channels open,
Google the right word, like kumina,
pocomania or Elverine, your mother’s name;
if you find a place where you might click
on a hand of plantain, remembering
then, the yellow insistence of morning
food, as if the sun rose from your small plate.
