Danish Manor Ghosts
was the title of a book
that my mother said she stopped reading
because it got too frightening.
So she sent it to her brother
Christian, who cultivated coffee in Kenya
because there were no doubt no
manor ghosts that would frighten him
there, she thought.
That mist have been around
1955.
The Mau Mau revolt was in full force.
That was the time
the black were black and the white
white
and the black killed the white.
When the white held parties
a pistol lay
alongside every plate, my mother said
with a shudder
like when she told about the book
Danish Manor Ghosts.
I pictured it before me!
My poor uncle in the coal-black
African night
surrounded by white manor ghosts
and the invisible Mau Maus'
white teeth