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Confines



POEM 25: CONFINES

The bath water 
is the colour of my eyes; 
yet, I don't know which is wetter. 

The drainage 
is the colour of my heart; 
yet I don't know which is neater. 

The black man 
is the colour of my dreams; 
yet I don't know which is brighter. 

This poem 
is the colour of my sky; 
yet I don't know which is bluer. 

Yet...I believe in miracles 
I see hope for that day 
when dark clouds shall roll over, 
and rain falls down. 
Lighting striking perfectly 
and hitting the ground with angry thuds 
children dancing in the rain 
dames gathering their skirts 
boys drooling at perky nips 
peaking from the thin fabric of wetness 

Though I know now 
which of the above 
makes me gay 
I'll sing like a Nightingale 
when clouds clear up rain settles down. 
And then stretch smiles around my wrinkled face 
when sun comes out and wipes away the frowns. 

Then this bath water, 
this drainage, 
this skin colour, 
this poem 
shall be a memorial of the hate 
through which I must sail. 



#365DaysOfPoetry 
#Pengician 
#SSA
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