Saturday, 14 August 2010

Capybara - from Rubber Orchestras, the forthcoming colletion

Capybara

1.

Cool and dead like long brown shoes

in an Akasic coffin with Efua beads,

rimmed like a nation of Baptist promises

and desirable bells, sapphire skin, thin skin of night.


Who hurried back to San Juan?

Whose right side of hip belonged to pleasure?

Who came

shuddering

in the dining room

on a black leather chair

deep in athletic water,

like hummingbirds

in black pitch bush

alone in the house of the Capybara?

And Trinidad,

pinpricked with departments

at the ministry of light,

push those waves of fizzing foam from your throat.

Your sister, waiting in those Hindu hills.

Her laugh, and see her airport uniform,

nestled in the footfall of that nauseous heaven.

Dust on the roof of time.


2.

Marie

of the Palestine.

Your subtle twitch, your very intention

remained in the church.

But your Deacon brews the turbulence

of an ill fitting Jesus,

and in Port of Spain

the cold Capybara’s brain is lifted up and eaten

Its eye still flash the flash eye

and I fall in love.


Venetian red is the latitude

of these cruel trees.