Going home

After my sister left for Jamaica

Janet Lilethia Harvey

I wept in the night of the desolate weep

I sought afar her through the convoy of airport limos

and carry my heart in my fist.

Tonight we will not share a meal

 So I levitate above spicy chicken feet &

Pig tail slather in coconut milk and red beans

the white long dumpling sits in the pot reminds me of bones.

Fried dumplings covered in plastic container

Crispy cod fish on onions and carrot,

I did not choose those in some gluttonous rage.

 I pull from the fridge the last thawed sweet potato pie (pudding)

  shed a tear on it before I zap it in the microwave

 and call it dessert- tasting the nutmeg through my tears.

After twenty plus years this house seem

-much bigger, I get lost going in circles

    its colder with out my sister here.

 now the winter feels much closer than it really is.

I am no longer whole in body or mind;

weakness of spirit envelopes me-- I miss home.

Days like this I measure my unshakeable confidence

and the will to keep on keeping on, via wilted desires

and the burred vision of the American dream.

Copyright October 8, 2012