Akawini Nights

On those nights when the moon reveals
nothing but a thin crooked smile and my eyes
(opened or closed) see nothing but a sea of 
blackness, the cool sheets of my bed tip
me gently into the cooling black waters
of the Akawini creek and as I float downward
little friendly fish nip at my skin. Fireflies
above the water's surface, flash green, like
Christmas lights, sometimes like shooting stars,
sometimes luminous
darts.

Duh wata getting cold like crab dogs's nose.
I begin to dream. "Wata wata yuh gut yuh wata here."
"Berbice?" "West Coas', West Coas'!" "Come buy
yuh no scale fish, here. One fuh hundred dolla."

The ungodly darkness delights. Water runs
over my naked skin and I sinkin'
deeper. Legs entangle with slippery
reeds and Lotus flower.
Wata Mamma asks:
"Is wha' yuh doin'? Come
le' me comb yuh hair."

A black beetle crashes into the side of my face.
Jolts me awake.

My body,
drenched by the (s)welter of the night,
an' I itchin' bad.

Mr Loverman tightens his grasp.
His long arms protective. Nothing disturbs his sleep.
I sigh. He snores.
Gently.