Ackee
There you are
Red, black, and gold
And in the wind
Your dress uplifted, the tease
Of hungry men appetite
For I have looked up your tree
With jealousy
At birds beaking your breast
And felt my tongue
Its passion flaming
Longing to lick your fatness
Like a plate.
O so intimate are my desires
From the plump fruit in blushing skin
On beds of onions and pepper
Where you intertwine your nakedness
Around the fish stripped bare
And salt like a lover's sweat
I still your aroma can recall
From under the sheet
Provoking a child's pasion
On Christmas morning
And a boy's fancy forever
Through the hunger of manhood.
Let the bounty come again
I do not care
What rebellion brought you to my house
Nor what evil report
The tattlering tongue will tell
Of some benign toxins
With which you break the heart of men
And mothers
My table is your welcoming arms
I am addicted to your love
Night and noon or morning soon
When upon my bread you swoon
Or perhaps cajoling with that half ripe breadfruit
Whose glory is the fire
You stoke so tenderly my desire
And bring to climax
The beauty of the moon
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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