OUT OF ACADIE
i
they were in the last boat
to leave the island
four families
suspected
of plotting with
the Micmac
against the English
six of their children
had been sent away
in earlier boats
only the littlest ones
stayed with them
he would meet
two of those sons again
in his old age
four lost to who knows where
ii
that story is about
us, my grandmother
told me when I
left the textbook open
to Evangeline
on the kitchen table
oh, no, Memere,
I said, it’s about
French people
who were sent to
Louisiana
she shook her head
those are our people
we were from there
Acadie
that’s our story
I wasn’t sure
whether to believe her
she was old, maybe
confused
iii
my Aunt Eva
sang Jambalaya
and said the same thing
lots of LeBlancs
in Louisiana
the swamp behind
her house a kind of
New England bayou
with huge snappers
but no gators
she made headcheese
in the front yard
from a whole hog’s head
that looked disgusting
but oh, the taste!
smeared on crackers
or baguettes
and the dirty rice
Memere made
was exactly the same
as the recipe I found
for Cajun dirty rice
minus the cayenne
that I cooked for a
Cajun dance party
and didn’t I grow up
hearing fais do-do
iv
my cousin
found the diary
of the Westboro farmer
who had bought my family
they say there were no slaves
in Massachusetts
indentured servants
they called them
by any other name
my ancestors were slaves
they needed passes to go
out of town
were forbidden to practice
their religion
too many French Canadian
catholics in one place
might fuel an uprising
it’s all there
in the diary
the forty years they slaved
the death of the father
my great, great, great
how many greats
grandfather
and their eventual
release and escape
to Canada
v
my mother always
hated English people
but she didn’t know
this story, didn’t want
to believe it when I told her
the French and English
have always hated each other
she said, and shrugged
no history, just the hatred
was left
and a sense of
being less, of never
measuring up
eating, dancing, dressing
French in flowing colorful dresses
disdainful of the tweed skirts
and sensible shoes
of my English aunt
who she hated
without knowing why