Praise Be

*

Shrove Tuesday

parade-of-the-bands

finds you begrudging

a garden of snow

marrow in the

‘in between’

I solemnly declare

to aspire

to achieve

old calypso’s irony

cum dissent, each note

of that now-distant pan

each trill, remains a calling

a pulse, a thrill

index fingers to leaden sky

shoulder to shoulder

drum-chants, streets aquiver

thousands of feet italicize

Powah Powah

*

beside birch and sumac

despite dogwood

and black spruce

salted veins pulse

oceanwards

the sailor’s phantom straw

a limb of pomerac

love-letter-cum-apologia

where no caimans bask

no pan-man 9-5 beats a tune

roti shop comparisons

who offers the most ‘authentic’

curried duck?

*

as leatherbacks to North Coast water

so to the merciless Southern Cross

you’re back home when…

…a tourist when

umbilical cords

of bake and shark, pastel, tulum,

pig foot souse, pone, salt prune

bus up shut, jeera pork, oil down

Charlie’s black pudding

severed

like a lizard’s tail

grow back

From Oh Witness Dey, Book*Hug, 2024