Syncretism
Jasmine
Virgin emblem I am flower
woven into Italian bridal wreaths.
And in the hour when blooms unfurl thoughts of my loved ones come to me.
Night scented I am vine
curled in Indian sheets.
Smiled shyly –– blossomed –– having played the game of love.
In my own land I am bad omen
draw duppies and demons.
Night jasmines cannot bloom in this cold place.
Mama should have known not to bring me home carrying that white flower name.
Jasmine Blossom by Nirala
Night Blooming Jasmine by Giovani Pascoli
Jasmines by Claude McKay—
Reciprocity
A curse in my mouth
once uttered, the jelly spoils
Maybe they don’t want what I give
Then why come with wet lips and open palms?
Adjust your expectations
A return is a sin
It may be easier for the camel and the needle
but I just want to break even
I resent the ledger and understand the armor
but we owe something to each other The inability to sit with discomfort
has been covered in buzzwords
We ignore the bonnet bee
until it stings the neck's nape
The honey and venom
wasted together —-
River Mumma
I’ve only seen my daddy in a dream
I try to imagine how he would seem
when he saw the gold comb pull through her hair
Daddy looked so hard; she could feel his stare.
She dove down in the water, leaving the comb
Daddy had ten children to feed at home.
He climbed up on the overlooking ledge
River Mumma swam to the water’s edge.
She called and my father leapt into the stream
I’ve only seen my daddy in a dream.—-
PHL > FTL
On the train
an elderly Black lady shares
a midnight sermon
over blown out Motorola speakers
“My back was broken
But by the Grace of God
I have been delivered
Today, I am healed”
Until, the staticky voice
of the conductor booms
from above
“Please utilize your headphones”
My seat neighbor
only a stranger before
turns to me
“She only wanted to share The Word”
Our laughter is our testimony—
Myal
Give up the dance.
No drums
no fetish
only the cross.
Under trance
Receive Him Christ.
Hallelujah echoes
off the bank.
Submersed
below the river.
Wash in the blood.
Drown out my demons.
In water
they cannot burn
go quiet as Maroons.
Thank Holy light.
Take communion.
A lone
sweet lime leaf
on my forehead.—-
Mourning
I sweep inward
away from the threshold. The Old way.
In my small space filth piles up.
I collect dirt for nine nights.
Smoke cleanse the soil
and wash its perimeter with basil water.
I keep it as an altar.
I call my grandma
to say I have swept my own feet. She cries.
Alone,
I jump the broom.
Crying.
I store it in the corner
bristles toward God. Dust returns.
In mourning
I don’t sweep for three days.
---Aloe Blood
I don’t want Aloe's blood
the translucent sticky wet
dries down brown red
Nauseating intimacy
I desire the Monstera I have tied up
in a pot hanging above my bed
it reaches for me
Edging closer
I want to be faithful
without prodding gashes
How do we survive these sacred wounds?
Stigmatizing hunger
The first time she comes
I’m bleeding, so I deny
I have deluded myself
Pretending not to need
But on walks around the cul-de-sac
I bend and break it at the stem
then slather the sap on my face—-
Eucharist
Give up the dance
No drums no fetish
only The Cross.
Under trance Receive Him Christ Hallelujah echoes off the bank.
Submersed below the river
Washed in The Blood
Drown out my demons.
In water
they cannot burn
go quiet as Maroons
We praise you, Spirit of God
The Holy Rite
Lone, sweet lime leaf on my forehead
a communion—-
(Jericho’s Duplex) A Good Man
Grandpa was a policeman in Jamaica. He did not want to be a bad man.
He did not want to be a bad man Locking up Black men in jail forever.
Black men die, locked up in Island jail. Black men forgotten, held there in chains.
Kept without judgement, held in their chains. So, he crashed his own motorcycle.
He crashed and saw a vision of God
Hate what’s evil, hold on to what’s good.
Do not hold on to what is evil.
In the garden, he tends to his greens.
Grandpa tends to greens in His garden. They grow up healthy. He is a good man.—-
Libra Venus
As I shuffle my deck
The Empress and The Emperor fall out
When it comes to love
I am careful not to curse
Like Bonnie said
I can’t make you love me if you don’t
And I would never want to force those long-fingered hands
that gently find mine under tables at Bimini Bar
I consider The King card
The Rider Reader asks me to tap into the divine masculine
I think of my mother half-lovingly calling me
The Son she never wanted
Or my high school counselor telling me
I hold emotions like a man
Yet, when the tears finally fall
there is no release
That can’t be all there is to masculinity
I look next at The Queen card
and the Oracle says to embody the divine feminine
I think of the pictures she texts me when she misses me
The ones with her face tilted up
the slant of her jaw cuts me good
Still, I know if I could reach through the screen
her skin would be soft to the touch
But that’s not all there is to femininity
Venus in Libra
I want so badly to reach a perfect balance
looking for equilibrium in this five-card spread
But she comes for me even when I am intangible
So, I must be Holy enough