A Looshan Sunset
An orange sun dances in the sky
like Eden’s sly serpent
and your bulging ape-eyes
are glued to your lover
like a dog drooling for low-hanging meat.
The waves - shh - hush the West Coast.
On your bare knees, Saint Lucia possesses you.
You caress Lover’s body,
waves caressing the shore,
making smooth porous cellulite.
Your fingers are cars, cruising a geography
of faces, curves and pitons -
and within you, sin finds a resting place.
Your wet lips kiss Lover’s face,
the last gleams of daylight kissing hot sand.
The mind is powerless against a Looshan sunset.