Yes
Jamaica and I have become close
again
the hills knock at me sound sleep
one night
fitful and entwined the other
the same lamp
one garbage can
under the desk
meals delivered
decadent
and friendships are still in tact
who would have guessed
that awful fact
stacked high
the cards are allowed to tangle
this version is safer
less free
falling is less free the second time around
revisit
me in the future aspirations of truth
fantasy
and I am home
yes love
home again
grandma
and houses yet visited
friends
foolish perhaps I am being foolish
but when am I not
foolish enough for you
my love is an enigma
float me
foolish
frenzy is behind the flogged filial
the failed fruit falling
is freedom
the second time grounds harder
hit me
grass spread thinly on rock me steady
sleepless
but still steeped in the soft of you
we are not so slender anymore
but slim is the chance that we might
do this again
how does one plot for a tumble
hope it does not come to blows
tears
hope slashed
sealed
sleeping in a darkened room
light seeping through the curtains
different
but the same smell
slanted and not quite falling
over ourselves
the aura is electric here in this small room
womb-like we slept
and hoped the morning would be kinder
than the blue blood of such a night
Jamaica
yes I am in Jamaica now
blowing breezes cool
running down the sly throat of things hoped for
kiss the wind in your city for me,
Staceyann