The Caribbean Writer

A Cultural Trip

Opal Palmer Adisa

Press me to your bread-fruit chest;
enfold me in your mango arms;
kiss me with those shoe-black lips;
let me taste your guava sip.

Be my father forgotten in cane fields;
my brother hidden under banana bunches;
my son killed by election promises.
Be my Rastaman who dreams of the promised land.

Hold me in the fallen chambers of Port Royal.
Caress me on the slopes of Dunn’s River Falls
Take me on the white sandy beaches of Negril.

Come to me
be mine to love
over and over again.


Copyright © Opal Palmer Adisa

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