Dr. Nahna James Poet Free verse

The Black Scalp of Fogo

I want to stand on the black scalp of Pico do Fogo, 
Where the earth smokes cigarettes with the sky. 

Not for the view, 
but for the vibration;
To feel the heat that cooked my grandfather’s name. 

They say the vines there drink ash instead of water, 
Birthing a wine that tastes like sulfur and secrets. 

I need to peel off my clothes, my degrees, my Spanish, 
And lay naked on that dark, magnetic grit, 
Until the iron in the soil speaks to the iron in my blood. 

Cape Verde is not just islands; 
it is punctuation In the middle of the Atlantic sentence. 

I must go where the ground is still being born, 
To remind my skin that we are both volcanic, 
Both waiting to erupt, both beautiful in the burn.

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Joseph P. DiMino August 11, 2026 at 2:26 PM "I must go where the ground is still being born, To remind my skin that we are both volcanic, Both waiting to erupt, both beautiful in the burn." Interesting phrase, evocative. Great writing!