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?
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