Sans Souci, Trinidad
By Ivy Raff
/ Poetry /
Terrible as she is turquoise, the sea
chops, roars, wakes shock
of forest-clothed hills,
sparkles in all-night flirtation
with the beach she deigns to expose
at low tide. Southern reaches
of Sea bellow over papaya leaf
rustle and bananaquit bird
gossip. The water’s rolled over
herself for millennia, dramatic,
self-inflictions carving violence-
shaped outcroppings. Rocks loom
large and replicate the island. Their trees
became full-grown Trinidadians:
precariousness taken in stride.
Roots dripping into seaswirl.