Canterbury Nostalgia
O to be there again
Little boys dancing for calypso dimes
And the US marines, angelic in white
White rum frolicking in the chapel of their brain
Laughing like water on the ships grey side
Sons, fathers, husbands
Finding respite in the sedulous arms
Of intinerant lovers
Milking their wallets with sugarcane charms
Not that significant fact
That stalled my hunger many days
Is my longing now
But the friendhsips we share then
Bees swinging sibilant songs to tease
The honeyed flow from orange blossoms: hookers of the breeze
We fragment of a frantic civilization
Marginalized by the necessity
That sent us pirating sea shells
Selling purple throated conchs for breeze
Of charity satiated with alcohol and disease
And trees for white flesh of almond nuts
And a safe place to sleep
Above the coral theatre our clouds
Meandering like eyes over the city's
Barren breast in delicious idleness
I long for friends again like those
That made time's calcite hands beautiful
As a stalagmite
In our oppressor's concrete heart ...
My best imagination then
Was our racing kites tugging at clouds
For white puffs of affection.
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