Tropical depression (Barbados)

The sea is brutalall rolling waves andtwisting undertow.The locals talk inPirate’s tonguessoft Cornish brogueI strain to understand.The sea is cruel today,and I’m afraid of disintegratinginto specks of white spittle.There’s nothing to sayas clouds roll in;another three hours of heatbefore the cicadas beattheir stick like legs to crescendo.I’m hanging on the bar ofyesterday, the future a bluroutside this air conditioned bubblewhere the dark can’t enterour breathe runs in unison with Heaven.We talk of love in three languages,none of them translatable..