Angel of Tobago

I left Tobago on a gypsy boat:  six women
and a barrel full of wine; rock-ginger and
a man with blue eye. The sun made us thirst.
We threw our dresses into the sea. 

The man captivated me with his pallid face,
soft, like a monjito soaked in gasoline
trapped inside the woven fingers of a girl 
with three matches aflame inside her mouth. 

He offered us wine on the third night
during the whitewash moon. I tried to say no, 
but the color of his eyes was the most beautiful 
I’d ever seen, so I let him wrap me in linens 
with my sisters and a song:

Je vous aimerai toujours, 
si vous ne m'aimez soir. Chantez, 
beautés noires, mes Sirènes, chantez.

We yearned like songbirds with the ruby throated breast of 
the Calypso woman with Baby-girl resting on the hip.
He milked my breasts with his calloused hands,
as the boat began to sink.

I awoke to the sound of waves,
on the beach of Blanchisseuse. 
Six women and the white man lay
lifeless on the shore, baptized;
their faces buried in the sand. 

Reviews

[Demetri J]

Lol finally my being French paid off on this site. But onto what's relevant, you have an interesting way of telling a story through poetry, a hauntingly abstract one at that, and yet with an atmosphere that makes it feel, idk, biblical...for lack of a better word. In any case, that was an interesting piece of writing, keep it up

[Jaclynne Lia Gray]

Hauntingly beautiful.