The Palm-Chats of Jalousie, Haiti

After Agnes Krampe Upon a lone palm, they build their communal nest —determinedly— but pause to study the berry-hued cinder blocks of the hillside shanty town, short lives stacked on short lives. One bird watches the woman plucking laundry from a fraying washline as if shirts were passion fruit on a vine, as if the vibrant reds could placate hunger. Another bird eyes several threads unraveling, temptingly soft, so close, but the woman looks up stays the flight as she entreats, will you not sing me a new song, will you never fly me home?