i never really thought of this place as home until yesterday,
when i arrived
back on the rock, this hurricane alley,
an alliance of some twenty years ago.
my eyes filled with aquamarine green and turquoise blue and
my nostrils cuckolded the scents of salinity. my heart rode on
the thick windless damp heat.
as if in a bdsm,
the blooming fiery red, silky wispy poincianas – tickled. leathery
lance shaped leaves of hot pink oleanders – spanked and
pastel cream plumeria rubra tube collar – slowly unwrapped
lace ropes of coral vines. my eyes entertained lustful,
luscious birdsongs. i climbed atop, the velvety silvery concoarpus
erectus that straddled the fringe of mangrove pond. my ears,
how they craved your cadence like the conspicuous
courtship calls of kiskadees. the damned sun peered through
powdered blue sky – sweated. i felt its ebbing, like code
switching tongue of locals – stroked.
upon returning, i henceforth come home.

∞

Andrea Olivia Ottley was born in St. Kitts and Nevis. She is a poet, writer and photographer, whose work has been published widely in magazines and anthologies, including St. Somewhere Journal, the Bermuda Anthology of Children’s Literature and Young Adult Stories, the Bermuda Anthology of Memoir and Creative Non-Fiction: Take this Journey With Me, and the Bermuda Anthology of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror: The Stories We Tell. She is a mother of five.