Toi Derricotte
From A Letter: About Snow by Toi Derricotte

From A Letter: About Snow by Toi Derricotte

for Chana Bloch I am at a retreat house,and the nun who runs the house told me to look at my face in the mirror.I did, but the only thing I keep seeing is the face of Snow, the ...

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Market by Toi Derricotte

Market by Toi Derricotte

Those huge platters on their heads on which everythingis placed accurately, each small red pepper,prawn, each orange―each arranged in piles so tall they defy gravity―avocados, ...

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Black Boys Play the Classics by Toi Derricotte

Black Boys Play the Classics by Toi Derricotte

The most popular "act" inPenn Stationis the three black kids in ratty sneakers & T-shirts playingtwo violins and a cello—Brahms. White men in business suitshave already dug ...

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A Note On My Son’s Face by Toi Derricotte

A Note On My Son’s Face by Toi Derricotte

Tonight, I look, thunderstruckat the gold head of my grandchild. Almost asleep, he buries his feet between my thighs;his little straw eyesclose in the near dark.I smell the ...

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from Burial Sites by Toi Derricotte

from Burial Sites by Toi Derricotte

Trauma is not what happens to us, but whatwe hold inside us in the absence of anempathetic witness.— Peter Levine, The Unspoken Voice I.The first was a bassinet. I don't remember ...

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Elegy For My Husband by Toi Derricotte

Elegy For My Husband by Toi Derricotte

Bruce Derricotte, June 22, 1928 - June 21, 2011What was there is no longer there:Not the blood running its wires of flame through the whole lengthNot the memories, the texts ...

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For Black Women Who Are Afraid by Toi Derricotte

For Black Women Who Are Afraid by Toi Derricotte

A black woman comes up to me at break in the writingworkshop and reads me her poem, but she says shecan't read it out loud becausethere's a woman in a car on her wayto work and ...

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