for Courtney Pine
Head held high above
this pirate’s throne
this barren river
of glass beads
and broken mirrors here lies the clay pot handed
down after a storm
Old litanies expire
to inspire the incendiary
melodies of an Atlantic
sea turtle
No regrets
home is heaven
carried with ease
and grace to anchor always
near the confluence of rivers
and trade winds
Feet firmly flat across
this no-man’s land
the acrobat
with lockjaw and club foot
is surfing in the twilight without passport or apology
in spiral flight
The skylark rides
the waves as always
resisting the force
feeding
The empire
in-breeding and the vulgar
‘Lawd what a Saturday
night’ feeling to reside above
the borders the boundaries
and the ball and chain
Breath bold folding over
the carpet goat-skin
the rocking chair of sorrel
petals shaped for comfort
in the dry season here songs are sealed to furnish
every room
The other stories
must be told
Always once upon
a time a journey
To where the urge
within must feed
And memory is made
from a web of razor grass
When speaking in whispers
or whistling the mystery of salt
And in corridors where
snow-filled tears have sat
entombed in paraffin fumes
There is always in the ebb
and flow
There is always a slant
a style a swing
Time tall eternal outstretched
the impossible is conquered
calling healing
calling healing
in the eye of the creator here the welcome
mat in place
takes a chorus
to the bridge
From Without Passport or Apology (Smokestack Books, 2017)