You love like the seasons

The spring in your step renewed me

Your summer lips subdued me

You weakened my limbs and I did fall

But your touch foretold winter after all.

And you left – for what? To recycle a lie,

To bring forth new flowers just to let them die.


Delaying The Questions

Abandoned buildings.
Lonely forgotten places.
They make coffee with my emotions. Mixed, unsettled, unsettling.
Reminding me of my mortality – and loneliness
Like a shadow that hides in sunlight but never quite leaves us.
Reaching out, hoping for an embrace.
But I escape to the safety of modern infrastructure, the sights drowning my thoughts till they settle.

Jamaican Waist Trainers, Best in the World!

Two ladies, tourists, were talking to Sammie while he drove them about in his taxi

The girls asked if he liked eating cheese with broccoli and they laughed when he said “me don’t like brackli.”

One asked “ok, do you know a gym I could go to in this parish? Or a store that sells waist trainers?”

He said “you don’t need none of dat this island will get you down to size like a strainer…

Just take a walk to a cabin up there, right there to the dewy green mountain

Your legs will cry out for murder, Miss Ladies this is certain.

And the hills are like obstacle courses, I doubt you will return with all your nails intact

If you do, is a miracle, look out for Jesus knockin at your door, tat-tat!!

Or…maybe carry four coconuts on your way from the rastaman fruit stall

I guarantee your arms will be as firm and toned as the great China wall.

Or jus go to a local community and pass some people’s gate

Let the mongrels chase you round,make you break track records to date.

An’ you don’t need no waist trainers, just take a kingston taxi day-to-day

I promise the driver will squeeze you in tighter than donald trump toupee.

Over time your waist will get smaller from the passengers digging into your sides

And you’ll shape little in the middle like squeezed flouride

Toothpaste, that is – and I sure this is better than any waist shackle you can find online

Let your environment be your trainer than a money-grubbing gym coach all the time.

Here is where you come off ladies, have a safe trip, you hear?

And thanks much for the tip, ma babyloves take care!”

Fine Line Between a Good Girl and a Hoe

And so I had sex with that man, Your Honor

Not because he wanted it

Not because I was infatuated or in love

or for a deeper purpose to be extracted by a psychiatrist.

I was just curious

and a human, an individual.

is that not reason enough?


Not for the gender-brand managers who brought me before The People’s Court,

eager to paste a label to reassure and satisfy identity consumers that only men do what I did.

Guilty! Thrown and locked in a cell

with other slimy females as well

whose bodies did not provide the desired adhesion for name tags,

they would not appeal their case through error confession or error correction.

I guess you can say they were unappealing.

I wonder… why do we create norms and act like it came from something greater and more inflexible than ourselves?

“Blame society” “Rebel against society”

An eavesdropping alien from space would think Society is a visible god, wanting us girls to fit nicely in pink frills on His shelf.