The audience sees you standing
behind the podium, but I know
you’ve long flattened the walls
of the room; you’ve gone leaping
across the Caribbean Sea.
There you spin and toss the islands.
Like a fuller’s earth you filter out
Looking back at six At sixty six
A little boy at the window
It was like any other day
The prison bell broke morning Before the first fowl cock crowed
A lazy sun stretching daylight On gran-gran’s bed
