"Castles in the Sky," "Dusk Flute," and "Chthonic Blunder"
Castles in the Sky
I remember your voice
sisterly, reproachful, commanding
how you always led us to trouble
We bathed in dirty water
in your new unfinished swimming pool
and the ensuing itches
are now moony puddle tracks
That time you tried
to teach me how to swim
and we both almost drowned
saved by your housekeeper
Hide and seek
the glow-in-the dark star stickers
in your bedroom
horror films, comedies
that didn’t yet feel like a reason
come to me in the patterns
of your mother’s carpets
We used to crack almonds at grandma’s
and steal deserts from her shop
remember?
You taught me the pleasure
of petty crime
of sneaking away
with a glass full of wine
You taught me
of taste and malice
What happened
to us cousin?
Are you no longer a preacher
of how salt
makes a world of a difference
on green tomatoes
It’s like we can’t catch up
too many forks in our
divergent roads
and I wonder if that malice
still holds your eye chinks
if the creases I see now
droop feebly
from the weight of motherhood
Our relationship
was one of mischief
and our distance
tells the story of how Barbie and Ken
grew aware of the fragility of limbs
of genitals and plastic houses.
Dusk flute
The many sunset breezes I’ve felt
on the hairs of my neck
were never alike
impressions quick as lightning
that I remember as landscape paintings
by a strange artist
The idea of a place
works like forgotten sunsets
that need tricks, or poems
to be remembered
You might need
an impulsive drive to the beach
to the area that became
the idea, the character
or the phenomenon
the “it” factor
It’s easy to remember the mild rain
against the beach water crackling
keeping your back cold
as you walk soaked
on the sand
the smell of the beach
like a sweaty person
with seedy invitations
This view is more dusk than dawn
a smother of ice blue clouds
with a flicker behind
a glow between red and orange
that swallows the sky and ocean
way yonder
lighting the landscape
on fire
and don’t forget
that thin shadow
between the clouds.
Chthonic Blunder
You and I
are always speaking
through ice cubes
something colder than the truth
We are failed songbirds
with grudges
because mom and dad
because things ain’t pretty
because vanity
because media
because…
What happened to us
that we needed so much
and forgot the original
song
Was there
an original song?
Never mind
I hear a new one
blooming
with fresh words and lyrics
Forgive me
if I turned your face
to a stone
I needed stepping and
couldn’t take the old sweat
Please blame
the warm sun
on the skin of my back
or the stretching horizon
because I need to hear
the cracks
in my voice.
Darryl / Dadou / Baron Wawa is a Port-au-Prince born Haitian-American who studied Photography and Creative Writing. He enjoys chocolate and good books. That said, maybe a movie is a good book. He loves to work with images and words and their pairing.