Wind seethes deep in the coconut palms,
then slowly unsheathes the sun—a changeableness
and shadow. You drink deeply this moss-tangled
2.
From the yellow frangipani, joy in fragrance.
of the body, sweet odors of star-blossoming
of fresh coffee, vanilla bean, tapioca,
3.
What language does the earth speak?
some subterranean text darker than Swahili
It's something about the trees that gives
4.
And the sea—what vowels or consonants
of light risen from the underworld
risen, and the mind a full moon tidal
c h a r l e s f i s h m a n
Fishman writes: "I was not born on the islands and have never lived there for long periods, but I feel a spiritual & physical connection to the Caribbean and am continually pulled back with the tides of my life: to Jamaica, where my wife and I were married; to Antigua, where we went to breathe again, after an 8-month separation; to Barbados, where we took our daughters on a pivotal journey that bonded all of us together once again; to St. Vincent, St. John, St. Martin, Puerto Rico & Aruba, far-flung points on the map that continue to singe, sing, & shine."
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SPEAKING ISLAND
For my daughters
1.
weaves those spiky leaves into weapons
of samurai rain
the blood gathers: pelican gulp of the breeze,
blue heron cloaked in mangrove root
heaven, clasped securely in talons
of sun and air.
The red hibiscus flares. Welcome
to the sun, to bare skin, the realm
hands, home still green and butterfly-
golden, aroma
ginger. Your toes and fingers, lips and throat
sing.
Perhaps tongues near to the equator know
bone-fire Gaelic or Upper Ganges Greek:
that bubbles up from a fissure deep
as grief.
meaning: the way they sway, the way they lean
toward death.
does the sea utter? Sunlight faltering west
cuts the night to ribbons, prisms
of the moment. It's the light falling
and the slashed night
in its power: once again, to be cupped
in the palm of beauty.
e a s t p a t c h o g u e , n e w y o r k
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