You’re a beast between the sheets
I call to you from far away in the trees outside
You make me moan
My dark nipples in your hand
I roam helplessly looking for parakeet
I see your eyes closed in ecstasy and contemplation
Which is the pleasure to afford this particular woman?
Years pass and I still fly high with the birds outside
Your commitments to high
Me holding onto the list carving my place on the waiting time
Wrinkles of wisdom join my eyes
And I see
That the reason for the birds
Is that I must be free
Of you around about and in me
I cook callaloo and sweet ginger tea
Let go of reminiscent from my ancestors
Beloveds.