Mangoes at Saffron Sunsets

@KaremIBarratt

house beach white

 

There is a house nested like a fat white dove

In front of the Caribbean Sea,

And when my world was new

I used to dance there, barefooted,

To the notes of the braided, thundering waves.

I raced the echo of my steps in the long veranda,

And shouted, pleased, as I touched the warm snow

Of the wooden wall, coppery at saffron sunsets,

When we would sit, my sister and I,

Scratched knees and wild grins,

And eat ripe, juicy mangoes under the green

Hood of the wide studded door

-Our fruit-smeared fingers mixing gold with gold,

As we pretended to touch the melting, sizzling sun.

I hardly see her anymore, my sister.

But when the grey city bites my soul

And life starts fires in my eyes,

I dream us back to the house veiled

By bougainvilleas and coconut trees.

We are sitting, in the glossy,

Ivory tiled kitchen, making tamarind juice,

The wooden spoon tinkling against the icy glass,

Like tolling bells on a Sunday afternoon

From long, long ago,

When the world was so new

Some things had no name.

Our eyes were so very young.

 

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3 thoughts on “Mangoes at Saffron Sunsets

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