Soulspeak

My heart is clear

listening to my gut

allowing space for my mind

to catch up

the sea is air-force blue

and glassy

and speaks to my soul

in a hushed whisper

the same sound and softness

from my clear heart

Draft – Flipped inside out 003

I learn to be here, becoming,

as each riding curl of water,

rolls towards my toes

and retreats.

Nothing stays the same here

– liminal layered space/ place.

Black Sea – Sea black.

Night is my skin …

These sands must testify

for the desires of the masters

and yet I stand here breathing

not doubting my black toes

digging in, claiming healing.

Black Sea, liquid black.

Water meets water and connects.

To take these steps into the dark

is coming home, is letting go.

Is enough. 


Draft- Flipped inside out 002

I learn to be here, becoming,
as each riding curl of water,
rolls towards my toes
and retreats.

Nothing stays the same here

– liminal layered space/ place

Black Sea – Sea black.
Night is my skin …


These sands must testify

for the desires of the masters

and yet I stand here breathing

not doubting my back toes

digging in, claiming healing

Becoming whole

After Megan Fernandes 

Sometimes, I could see Daddy,

liming along the sea walls of Trini

racing in the hills between the metal shacks 

clothed under a black blanket dotted

with diamonds holding wishes of England

whispered from thick black lips.

I’ve been waiting on Summer like a promise.

Sweating under breasts, I’m reluctant to cross

over the threshold, the weight of this black body

offending everybody and including me.

Some days, I imagine silver light shed 

along the shoreline. Probing sand eels

leaving spiralling piles of sand and shit.

Grace is not something I wear. Except

one time after pulling myself together again in

Iceland’s otherworldly landscape.

Daddy kept his island parcelled in fur, under 

the bed, never to drift out and cocoon me in home.

At midlife crisis, I’m knee-deep in this man-made

forest, serpents for hair, munching waxcaps, knowing 

it’s not wise, but mesmerised by their ruby rubber

ness, knowing there’s no escape looking in the mirror

WildThings

numb feet

throbbing thighs

the burning thin skin of elbows

pain is real and immediate

teeth bared like a wildthing

sharp intake of breath whistles

but the singing after the stinging

is the nectar is the blooming

blossoming rush of love

for the moment, for life, for self