Jamaican heart

Slammed shut I fall,
like soufflé sunken in the middle
Atlantis is nowhere near lost as is consistency

To climb to heights of
Mountains blue
but stuck in valleys deep
sipping on the original beverage—
coffee.
I prefer it
black and hard
strong like

maroon blood
on taste buds to remind me of
Nanny, Cudjoe,
Asante, Accompong
Warriors in hills and trees fighting
for freedom
fighting and dying
for a people still fighting
stifled by dreams
hard to perceive as
heads strike pillow and strike out—
down

Mountains blue
terrain the colour of smell,
aromas green, black and
forestry.
Coffee.

I sit and drink
inhale winds blowing
sunken in the middle
door slammed shut - fallen.

celestial sleeplessness

and still
midnight eases
towards honey dipped dew
slowing through the molasses of stars
laughter ethereal
blooming from a system silver
bending to delight
stood by nightshade or belladonna or poison slumbers
still bound as prey
the eye of beauty stalks her
wild till she falters at the altar
giving mind over to lucent tones
lovelorn and pinched mouth

and still
fate thinks itself a soft blowing breeze
grazing honeyed and stuck
witching hour

Gervanna Stephens is a Jamaican poet and proud Slytherin with congenital amputation living in Canada. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rhythm & Bones, Bone & Ink, Rose Quartz, Okay Donkey, 8 poems, TERSE, WusGood.black, Enclave and Anti-Heroin Chic. She hates public speaking, has two sisters who are way better writers than her and thinks unicorns laugh when we say they aren’t real. Tweets @ gravitystephens

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