Things That
Transpire under a House
Unlike a house
on thin wooden stilts
rising out of a swamp,
this house stands
on concrete columns.
Steel buried in the core,
they have defied fierce
quakes.
II Wearing the Same Paws
I commiserate with my dog in
our haven.
We sit side by side,
sad-eyed
after I wrestle him away
from father,
spare him from further
whippings.
We shudder at his punishment
as we deem it unfitting the
offence.
Dogs must dig. It is their
nature
to unearth and bury things.
Those who plant flowers
deplore the dog’s
desecration
of their sacred grounds.
Seeds long nurtured, now
blooming,
display a gardener’s love of
nature.
III. Explorations
Curious about the workings
of our body, we stumble
upon our feelings,
discover the sensations
of “forbidden fruit.”
IV. Cast-outs
Stuff, too big and heavy
to drag down the hill
and to heave into dumpsters,
have become hideouts to insects
that lay eggs in the safety
of the discarded.
They shelter secrets.
Small insects, spared the
sun’s glare,
play in dusty earth.
They wiggle, hop in and out
of burrowed homes,
keep busy with banal
chores.
Some, we call “pee-pee
cluck-cluck.”
They make way for lizards,
a stray iguana, a millipede
on a detour.
V Riding Fat White Clouds
Under the house,
we hang heads in clouds,
contemplate the road ahead.
Future puts its brakes on
at the following summer.
Anything beyond is
unfathomable.
VI Unwanted Visitors
Under the house,
our sanctuary against adult tyranny
is infested by shrouded ancestors.
They hover and flutter in
dark corners,
and eavesdrop when the sun
drags
its blanket over the island.
We flee before jumbies*
make their wishes clear.
Fearing the sound of
their unearthly voices,
we do not wait to
communicate.
*jumbies-spirit of the dead
© Althea Romeo-Mark,
07.01.13
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