the R lot

Within the first years of marriage,
a constant honeymoon,
they wished to extend themselves
and, not a moment too soon,
she arrived in the month of peak sun
a literal bundle of joy
their very first one.

Born in the summer, she was
as sweet and cute as a child could be,
she didn't cry when she awoke,
fussed only when absolutely necessary.
She was the pride of her parents
and carried the stamp
of an aunt who wanted to love her
but never got the chance.
Alone, but not for long, she became
the big sister of a baby clothed blue.
In the month of Easter, now there were two.

Her little 'titta-brodda'
was a big-headed one,
but for excellent reason:
he proved a very clever son.
while still in his crib
he demonstrated stealth,
and, pretending to be sleeping,
knocked blocks on his sister's head.
The source of much laughter
and stories retold,
they were peas in a pod
when, at four and two years old,
during the season of rain and threats of the sea,
came a tiny addition. Now there were three.

With a descriptive vocabulary
lacking 'cute' if given a choice,
she made up for small body
with an everlasting voice.
Unlike her sister, who
hardly cried at all,
she had to be held
for her wailing to stall.
The youngest and smallest
she was often used to gain
all the goodies for the rest
from a dad who would not refrain,
because he was usually
fast asleep when he consented:
his consistent 'mhmm' taken for 'yes',
whether or not he meant it.

The three of them,
each two years apart,
fought, played, and grew steadily bonded
to each other's heart.
Yes, there were fights
between sisters that led
to screams in the corridors
and things flying overhead.
Of course the youngest was picked on
till she usually cried,
and her brother felt sorry for her
and finally took her side.
But they had fun in their youth
running up and down the stairs
riding their bikes in formation,
playing games in pairs.
The neighbours, their other
brothers, but not by blood,
would often join in, making
them even, instead of odd.
Then, when they thought they'd stay odd for sure,
came a pleasant surprise. Now there were four.

Born in the month
beginning with 'S'
she was by far the most Special
of all the rest.
Ten years trailing
her nearest sister,
she was showered with love,
always the centre.
Especially since
they had long grown out
the games she would play
and what she'd talk about,
they made sure that she
always felt included,
not that they needed it,
she was already firmly rooted.

And there you have it,
the first is Rusheyne,
the eldest sister,
followed by Romain,
the only boy standing
in the R lot,
and Racquel, the last
and most precious we've got.
The only one missing is that crying number three,
and, if you haven't guessed it, that R is me.

Happy Birthday Racquel!

a thousand more

She gave him a hard time about this. Yes, it was obvious by the way he acted, the way he treated her, alone, and with others; true that she felt completely secure, and that she never once felt unloved, but couldn't he say it, just this once? She talked herself into thinking that if he couldn't bring himself to say it, he really didn't feel it.

He expressed his feelings on a constant basis. She heard it. She read it. She wore it. Constantly showered by the affection she was due. His words poured out like rays of the sun finally bursting through a cloud-filled sky. Yet there were times she felt unsure of his true feelings. What!? After he's been expressing them all this time?! It was something about his actions that troubled her.

She felt she was probably a bit selfish. Nothing anyone did pleased her, because she wanted too much. Through it all however, she had to admit, that given the two extremes, she would choose to know by actions rather than by words.

allergies

ed a split, aat a skip,
tempricha de ina di ai,
mi yai a waata, mout drai,
mi main konfyuus,
jus pior sai.

mi badi shiek wid anga,
jelus til mi shok,
sad til aal mi vizhan skuu.
beta mi lef dan tan yaso!?
ku ya, mi mosi alerjik to yu.

Not from Jamaica?
read in English

purging

I dreamt that I didn't have to cry anymore,
and woke, and cried, just like before.

familiar digits

Stripped of all but words, he stands as a reminder that true closeness arises from an outward expression of that tucked within.

Like a good book, his images are painted vividly in my mind, stirring my emotions, successfully bridging the obvious gap between us.

Though absent in body, the presence of his thoughts are my companion, his willingness to hear my own, my release.

Our eyes have never met, hands have never touched, voices never crossed. We remain connected only by our fingers.

waltz

We met, we meshed, it was incredible, that bond.
It formed without our knowledge
and blossomed into something far beyond
what we ever anticipated.

In ignorance we danced the night away
not once believing our hearts
would be different by day,
with feelings unrecognisable
to those who bore them.

Almost one we became, inseparable,
and yet still separate in body and mind.
Without even beginning to search
we each found what we longed to find:
the companionship that eluded us for so long,
a freedom of expression that
trust and security are based upon,
another with whom to ourselves we could be true,
as we danced the night away...
...as I danced with you.

my achates

steady
like the seconds of a clock
constant
dependable
reliable

disappointed

that I wasn't told? no
that I wasn't told by you.

relapse

sound rising from the dome, filling the air, increasing decibels. passion rising from within, filling the soul, increasing adrenaline.

moving instinctively, puppet of the beat. smiles radiating from inside out, extending to fingertips, toes, and adjacent faces. sticks, an extension of me, molded to my hands as they wave.

the body jerks alive with joy... jerks awake

hands unfold to reveal nothing but skin. smile recoils from outside in.