Friday, May 12, 2006


I remember standing in the harbour, watching
As the ships came in, as sailors disembark
Scarlet knee length dresses hiked up, glittering
With gold – on ears, on wrists, on ankles
They are our chains. They drag us down.

The sailors disembark, approach us but the officers
Barely register our presence. We are too tawdry for them
Bothersome. They fix their eyes on the town-girls
And now these recollections anger me. They bud freely
In the mind.. Others doubt the authenticity

Of my memoirs. They are inflamed
At the very utterance of my name.
Crimson paint over whitewashed lives
I dredge my story from the depths
Of their calm blue and bottomless sea
And, for this, they despise me

And they make no secret of it
I commemorate the colours that dwell
In history, in mystery. I am offered
A frosty reception. I am stilt wild,
I am still toxic, tearing the thin veneer
Away from the tedious and cowardly


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