Teesta Review: A
Journal of Poetry, Volume 4, Number 1. May 2021. ISSN: 2581-7094
Philoxenia
--- Angela Costi
The mansion was a brick veneer house
in Lalor
with three bedrooms, more than
enough space
for Baba, Mama, my sister, ‘the
refugees’ and me.
For school, I drew the house in
aerial view to show
how we lived within walls of small
steps and hesitant
knocks, with a toilet and bathroom
in constant repair.
Bedroom three was cleaned by Mama
with a double
bed covered by a treasured Lefkara
embroidery
to comfort Phito, Roulla, Aki,
Andriani, Chrystalla.
My parents brought the Ancient
tradition of philo-
xenia, befriend the stranger,
welcome the weary
with heart, no need for ‘tolerance’
or ‘cultural duty’.
There were stamped passports, signed
papers, a promise
to learn English, Baba found the
money, Mama cooked
the meat and beans of stewed
memories, they stayed.
Late at night, there were noises of
war from their room
as if they unpacked EOKA’s guns,
Attila’s
howitzers – they used our pillows to
muffle their cries.
To Pledge Loyalty to the Crown
--- Angela Costi
I’ve studied in my sleep,
taken Ritalin to stay awake,
labelled my take-in notes with
meticulous zeal,
still the Torts exam is a scroll of
aristocratic
legalese with a spat of is
not the probable cause not insignificant
a slap of ratio decidendi
a punch of obita dicta,
panic is wrestling with each
question,
I’m no selected toddler
meant to study this language from
birth.
A police officer can gun you down
in your sleep,
Is the Crown liable for the tort of
its servants?
I can’t find plain words to fire
back
against the old maxim:
A constable when acting as a peace
officer
is exercising original authority.
My words are clenched fists.
I’m not in court arguing for
peaceful dreams,
I am one of 340 in a large cold room
harnessed to a desk, burdened by a
heritage of escape
from poor law.
My parents arrived after the
Dictation test:
If the land is ploughed when wet the
furrows may,
and in all probability will, wear a
more finished
appearance, and will be more
pleasant to the eye…
their loyalty to Anzac Day, royal
assent,
colonial invasion
was tested by silence and work
with low pay to become
citizens of the Crown.
I’m sprayed with the career
counsellor’s tag
– don’t fly too high!
still, I pledge to apply the law as
dictated
and become my twenty-one-year-old
mother
standing in front of the Citizenship
Officer
who is telling her there is no test
only a form, which is
five pages with words
she cannot read
cannot write
cannot speak
and so, she cries
before asking for help
in Greek.