AMÍLCAR PETER SANATAN
For Alton Ellis
after work, club lights blush
————belts of gold glimmer ‘round necks
water from taps in Boys’ Town replenish
throats and lullaby suffering
after soft wax, supersonic spirits appear
lashed with scotch bonnet
genre born in the sound of man
————making love to his country
with all his mouth and waist
how he rocks, steadies
————————walks the fat, slow tones of ghetto yards
Night Shift
i sit in front the evening’s laughing face & shadow
it may seem the streetlight decided not to turn on
but this is the way of islands
outside an election year
fireflies flutter, dance
like dust swirling
from a room’s ceiling fan, my years are adding up
————i’ve taken space in half of
————my father’s study
——————————————haven’t let go
——————————————the other half
pamphlets of Jagan’s and William’s lectures
“nobody-poets” on stages
he helped build
out-of-print texts of an archipelago yearning for sunsets
the room is messy; reams of tearful colleagues
seeing me, missing you, confirming
sharp inevitabilities
the CARICOM Perspectives remain perfectly kept, as you wanted
i keep one leftover Half Moon notepad
handwritten notes as artefact
holding contact numbers and reminders on conference floors
————simple ephemera
————————————————for reasons you were away
Postcard: Royal Hope Gardens II
five o’clock, by the out-of-service fountain, i said,
i stood on the corner of King Street and looked
and not one flower was as lovely as you
————or whatever lyrics Lorna Goodison’s father wooed
————her mother with on a visit to distant Kingston
talking poetry, telling you about graduate studies timelines
and fiscal allocations across national gender bureaux
had i pretended you were just some summer fantasy
i wouldn’t have broken my promise of
writing you letters on colonial postcards
we exchanged for coins in Bookland
had i not been ambitious with two hands
i would call upon the flâneur to dial back
better manage his meditation of your city
so that he could patiently make note
of parrots and stuttering buildings earmarked for urban
revitalisation beating dawn and making pacts
with night women at the start of their work day
————marriage could sound like the adult word
for buckle and debt management and mortgage assistance
indeed, the poet about love seeks the magical
remember running through the rain, sheltering on a fellowship?
your readiness to build another wall
when i proposed to you in Hope Gardens
we pass off these first encounters as playful –
silly boy
throwing flowers
at pretty girl’s face
i figured the boquet
in the backdrop of possibilities
made you blush
