On walking into Jamaica

A poem…to take you there.

photo by author

After laying hot the morning astride the whitewashed
bowl of the salted pool balancing the emerald
sea beside we left our naked shadows in the noonday hours
our breasts too pale to stay so long.
The sun burned our turning skin like razors splaying fruits.
From Blue Harbour we climb ‘round the jungled edge
sliced with green slashing blades of palm and fern
painted drench of reds blooming between…