Island Arrhythmia
(Poem by Wendy Howe )

Call her Haiti --- this pulse
skipping joy,          slave beat, girl
         glaring in the landscape's gut

  at the sea wind
unwinding its white

She slaps the sky,
her braided hair
a whip flung --- begging
            gauze not fog
to bind the bleeding wounds.

Her ancestors
pounded meat and corn;
               but she pounds the hours
into seconds, fingers ticking
            faintly against fallen stone.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.

To know more  about this poem,   about Wendy Howe

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"Empathie pour Haïti"

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Empathie pour Haïti

© 2011,

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