Trinidad

We part like

contentious lovers:

a hatred burning

in my belly for 

your rigid, 

eternal,

Stagnation.

Fire in your veins

for the way I seem

to have changed.

 

The touch of another,

the kiss of their lips 

on my neck 

are palpable.

 

I 

relished 

it. 

 

Yet, 

I’m still tethered

to you.

My navel string

buried beneath 

your orange tree.

Encased in Anansi’s web.

Unable to free myself

and unwilling to try.

 

At three thousand miles in the sky

I feel your vicious grip slacken

from my windpipe. 

Funny how the price 

of immigrant freedom,

is unrelenting longing.