Tonight I feel the need
to build poems,
shape myself into words
to move mountains, words fit
to cradle
the sleeping poinsettia.
Spoken in whispers
shouted among trees
I would build
to shake and quake
the mighty Soufriere,
powder my seas from Havana
to Suriname, suspend
Magnificent Kaiteur…
Tonight, let your veins in me become
celestial tools, humble carpenter
and I will build havens
for the bashful manatee
erect courageous boats
of honour
for the lost in the middle passage,
return Adewoule
to the arms of Titi
Maybe, he will return
with your blessings
this time.