TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Grace Nichols

Against the Tradewinds

Sitting sideways on the crossbar of my father’s Raleigh bicycle – he pedaling, panting, pushing sixty against the Tradewinds – Me, in sulky pubescent silence – a crossed-legged eleven-year old

offended by the implications of his wind-snatched words: You’re getting heavy girl

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