The darkness gathered in the distance. It breathed and gorged.
She imagined a tempest of such enormity. It will swallow the living earth.
It will suffocate the light. And when the world is in darkness.
She will plot her escape. In the ciphers of her poetry.
In the rice fields, a pestilence. A smothering of tufted grass.
Hack every crow that caws. Bury the knife in the woods.
Let the forests be inundated. By a furious rain of tears.
And the laugh of musketry. Echoes in the bellies of the slaves.
In the early morning market. A lullaby of touting.
A bag of rice and a basket of yams. A barter for a lame duck.
Her body lay peacefully. Amongst the poke of pigs.
In the bid and chatter of merchants. She bought her deliverance.
Libertad arrived on the brightest day. She had the sail of a psalm.
The ballasts of a dirge. Her feet touched the blistering sand.
There he met her with an aria. There the sea reposed to bless their love.
She touched where his heart beat fondly. Sparked his hermetic soul.
How sweet it would have been. To remember again.
To forget all that had to be forgiven. To suckle a goddess flower.
And taste love’s delicate weight. Upon his heart-ripped chest.
At the seaing edge of the known world. So blessed the unknowable.
Last stanza, from “Thee Longing of a Shortfall wit(love)in AnOtherWorld” by my beloved muse, Dan Kozak.
Fatima Lasay, San Roque
Wednesday, March 12, 2014