Today, you have squash
soup, a can of sardines
and a bag of seaweed

little reddish green
leaves that taste
like dried bluegills.

It's called
"dulse"
as if it were
much, much sweeter.

I have my usual
cheese, three mozzarella
sticks, some slices of dried
apple, apricot, peach.

I tell you
about the t-shirt
I got for Christmas

Today, you have squash
soup, a can of sardines
and a bag of seaweed

little reddish green
leaves that taste
like dried bluegills.

It's called
"dulse"
as if it were
much, much sweeter.

I have my usual
cheese, three mozzarella
sticks, some slices of dried
apple, apricot, peach.

I tell you
about the t-shirt
I got for Christmas

the white one
with the illuminated
map of Trinidad
and Tobago
on the chest.

You tell me
about the leaky glass
bottomed boat, how
you all sang
"dah bucket is gone
and dah water come in"
and how you swam
to safety‚ twice‚ wearing
your flipflops and balancing
your camera bag
above the water

about the deep drumming
rain on a thousand
metal rooftops
and finally the flash
flood and the mountain
flowing through the streets.

not to mention
the Muslim bull calf
who escaped
the knife just
in the nick of time, ran
through the Bingo game
on the beach, straight
to the Hindus and his own
little slice of Nirvana.