highgate, st. mary parish writer Maddy Aubey
Papaya Guava and Red Red Wine Drip down my fingers Like the blood of my Buffalo Soldier ancestors Our only legal export is Reggae Music squeezed from us like Coconut Milk Rice and Peas Cassava cut open on a wooden block of Starch and Stale Bread Negril beaches have sand as white as saltfish bones Prick the back of my throat till I croak like a tree frog Wail like a mule while Scotch Bonnet burns my eyes Sip Cola Champagne with fried dumplings to ease the pain Negril beaches have papaya as sticky as sweat Beading over a bowl of porridge Thick and hot corn-meal Match the rows on your head Eat that quickly while it’s still hot Hot like summers and Kingston traffic Hot like Curry Goat and dancehall Like Ginger Tea and and Jamaican Girls Who grow up to be Jamaican Mothers Strong like Oxtail and Jerk Chicken Sweet like Rum Punch and Black Cake Jamaican Mothers who grow up to be Jamaican Grandmothers Tough like GrateACake and Yams Warm like Ackee and Callaloo side by side Hot Jamaican Girls who become strict Jamaican Mothers And grew up to be tough Jamaican Grandmothers Married to Strong Jamaican Boys who became untrustworthy Jamaican Men followed by crow-footed Jamaican Grandfathers If you walk down the hill from Annotto Bay cemetery Past Auntie’s and the Yam shop You’ll hit Cane River Falls That’s where I’d like to go when I die. Spliffs rolled by my grandfather’s thumb then somehow seemed less corrupt Shaded by Banana leaf and Jackfruit trees…. We can sit here all day if you’d like
