From sweat muscled calves
from the down swing of machetes
from clouds of dust south the sugar mills
from out the Holy Spirit
from cane honey
from white-fisted fathers
and the laugh-cry of loa.
Come people grown midway, ‘tween Africa
and the edge
Sprung up through the bodies of Caribs
up through rough trade and railway
up through ocean
littered with the wide-eyed drowned.
Out deco splattered buildings come
refinished beaches fed from Las Vegan sands.
To these come black ants, the anarchic scramble,
to land, to copper street, to the cuff-net of detention,
the down swing of billy clubs,
springs cracked bone augury, casted down like
finished buckets of half-eaten chicken
spring then infants with liquid tongues and foreign
walks, dead gods and plates of un-sucked marrow.
From black bodies to black ants to black flies and white maggots.
From the beauty of the criss-crossed tunnels of the hill
kicked, turned to mad-dash-frenzy, we crawl
in the house that made the boot