Bamboo Ridge Barbados

This time, this place,is not a dream symbol.Sun bites at middayFrangipani drops her secrets,rain falls in the nightleaving daytime skiesblue, unyielding.Today sea banks upagainst rain cloudsmonkey’s tails slipinto silent foliage.My skin is honed bysea and salt to a dull gold;European colour ofunknown originThe ice cream man’sbell tinkles, circulating sugar.I need my own sugar.My mind a watermelon,empty, fit for counting coconuts.The island a tear drop fromUniverse’s cradle,clinging to coral rootswhile the rest of us crumble.