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Mango
for
Tiger
By Glenis Redmond I like to know where I
AM
at all times.
Where I am going,
E. T. A., weather
conditions, what’s going on.
Contribute it to my
astrology
the particular hour of
my birth
my sun sign, Virgo, with
Saturn in the seventh house.
I feel things strongly,
deeply, passionately,
but only after careful
thought and thoughtful analysis.
I’ve heard this refrain
all too often in my life
echoed from my lover’s
lips,
“You think too much.”
Then I disappear into
his eyes.
This Rasta man, dreads
falling down his back like black rain.
The way this man moves
I want to be caught in
his groove and I AM.
I can’t get out of the
slant of his Portuguese eyes,
the firmness of his
African hips.
The way that this man
dips,
I want to stand up on
the mountain and shout about it
thank God about it.
No, thank Jah about it.
I want to give praise
for the particular
curves of this man’s bones.
He is deep.
He is deep not with
words.
He is deep with his two
thousand year-old heart.
With his arms he has
carried me to a place
where I can forget my
complex make up.
He has carried me where
water washes away
reason.
He has reshaped my
landscape.
Made me melt with the
heat of his desire.
His hands
His hands
How they have learned
their lesson?
I’d rather not know.
But I am thankful for he
is all beauty and danger
the product fire.
He looks up from that
deep place in his eyes and says . . .
“I want to make you
something to eat.”
He disappears into his
world.
He slowly turns inhales
a mango
his world is all flesh
and juice sliding between lips
as dark as magenta
sunrise.
I,
do not want for naught.
I,
do not envy mango or any
other foreign fruit.
I am wide open with
desire,
body tight with tension
and the knowledge
I,
will become a mango
this night,
and nothing else
will exist
in his world. * *
* * *
posted 19 June 2006 |
