Tropical depression (Barbados)

The sea is brutal
all rolling waves and
twisting undertow.
The locals talk in
Pirate’s tongues
soft Cornish brogue
I strain to understand.
The sea is cruel today,
and I’m afraid of disintegrating
into specks of white spittle.
There’s nothing to say
as clouds roll in;
another three hours of heat
before the cicadas beat
their stick like legs to crescendo.
I’m hanging on the bar of
yesterday, the future a blur
outside this air conditioned bubble
where the dark can’t enter
our breathe runs in unison with Heaven.

We talk of love in three languages,
none of them translatable..

Bamboo Ridge Barbados

This time, this place,
is not a dream symbol.

Sun bites at midday
Frangipani drops her secrets,

rain falls in the night
leaving daytime skies

blue, unyielding.

Today sea banks up
against rain clouds

monkey’s tails slip
into silent foliage.

My skin is honed by
sea and salt to a dull gold;

European colour of
unknown origin

The ice cream man’s
bell tinkles, circulating sugar.

I need my own sugar.

My mind a watermelon,
empty, fit for counting coconuts.

The island a tear drop from
Universe’s cradle,

clinging to coral roots
while the rest of us crumble.