Last Dhow to Town

Stone Town, eight-forty-five
Sale papers on the spice-stall counter
Last dhow to town leaves at nine
My sister says, Sign first
I say, Pack the cloves

Mother's brass scale leans to one side
Same way it did when we were children
Cardamom tins stacked beneath the shelf
Her handwriting fading on the labels
You stayed here through the hospital year
I sent money, called too late, came home defensive
Now an agent waits for both our names
Says the buyer wants the keys by morning
Captain calls final boarding from the harbor
You fold the awning, I count the jars
Neither one says why the old blue ledger
Is still locked inside the bottom drawer

Half past eight
Boatman calls
Papers waiting underneath the lamp
We can divide the shelves tonight
But what do we divide in us?

Last dhow to town, let it leave tonight
We have one more box and one old fight
If the harbor keeps us till the morning light
Last dhow to town can leave tonight

Cloves in paper
Names in ink
One more drawer
Before the harbor sleeps

Behind the scale, I find her recipe book
Flour on the cover, cinnamon in the spine
Inside the page for coconut bread
A note written to both of us
Do not split the things that fed you
I laugh once, then hate myself for laughing
You sit down on the empty rice sack
First honest silence we have had in years
The last dhow horn moves across the water
Neither of us runs toward the quay
You tear the agent's copy down the middle
I unlock the shutters from inside

Nine o'clock
Boat is gone
Papers torn beneath the lamp
We nearly divided every shelf
Before we read what she left us

Last dhow to town left without us
One more night inside this little shop
Harbor keeps us till the morning light
Last dhow to town can leave tonight

I thought sending money meant I stayed
I thought staying meant the whole place was mine
We were both counting what the other failed to carry
While her old scale waited for both hands
We missed one boat
And stopped dividing the family
At dawn we will paint the sign again
Both our names beneath hers

Last dhow to town left us on the quay
We missed one boat and kept the family
Cloves in the jars, morning on the sign
Last dhow to town, we will catch another time
One shop, two names, one old recipe
We missed one boat and kept the family

First call from the market
Violin from a radio upstairs
We lift the awning together
Mother's scale between us
Last dhow to town
Already gone