Blanchisseuse, Trinidad
Hurricane Bahia
I am a raging catastrophe
with no socks on.
If I could conjure a free box of Chinese carryout
and some sweet iced tea
evolution would whirl extinct by perfection
I am tired
of my own hot air
Poems never feed a stomach
and I am doubting my ability to fill souls
I have blown off friends
destroyed bank accounts
and I’m still gathering speed
there is no sense
to my hatred of logic and potato wedges
My tantrum against reality
Pray for the moon to slip out of its groove
and push me to some third world shore
Where it’s cool to be happy and poor
Where people have babies and stray dogs
‘no stress’
Where it’s easy to be a natural disaster
half dressed.