st. croix mornings

the beach at sunrise

raises its skirts

like a drunken pigeon

 

i raise my eyes awake

behind armored gates

somewhere deep in frederiksted

inside dark rooms

that shroud my skin

in the colors

of an evening gone bad

 

bluest black

rinsed indigo

uncensored red

 

dark nameless woman

washed ashore

skin seared

like an eclipse

out of season

 

warm water

nips under my

breast

seeps into my skin

 

and the ocean whispers

 

stay close

stay close

 

i strut red feathers like a pagan god

open my house boldly

invite sun and waves to crush my wings

rape this serenity

 

bluest black

rinsed indigo

uncensored red

 

i surrender

to the messages in the sky

on the waves

 

 

i eat my own blood

reach quietly inside the water

gather all of me

alongside myself

 

and the ocean whispers

 

stay close

stay close

 

an earlier version

of sunrise

teases the curtains

teases the whiteness of sheets

that gather around my ankles

that remind my feet to breathe

 

an earlier version

of sunrise

sits cross-legged

holds thunder

captive under skirts

 

that deny

full moons

that deny

seasons  of fire

thy deny

births and names 

 

st croix mornings

gaze back at me

through the eyes

of my daughter

remind me

of other madnesses

other unnamed seeds

 

the madness of the sky

the madness of a woman

who refuses to

 

stay close

stay close