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Opal Palmer Adisa
MOLASSES
i’m a hands woman
love to take his large fingers
and suck on the tip of each one
just before i walk away
molasses is that audacious
once you use it to sweeten your tea
you’ll never go back to sugar
but beware
it sticks to everything
leaving a trail
molasses can be callous
leave it to harden
and you’ll pass each other on the street
your hatred all that connects you
not even remembering
the lunch time quickies
that got you through
the afternoon of work
mark my words
children who turn away
from their parents
will not have the pleasure
of sitting at a table
spread in their honor
family is kindred
to molasses
CARIBBEAN PASSION
i was schooled by ackee
scholar of passion
that turns the blood
a poisonous mauve
she told me one
night of purple skies
ackee is serious
about devotion
using her shirt tail
to fan the heat between her thighs
i know touch
felt it first in the sweat
that glistened on his face
my desire caught on his tongue
i sauntered the shores
my toes touched by archival script
surrounded as i am
i can’t help but fondle myself
in the endless place
without seasons
there’s a fruit sweeter
than star-apple’s cum
ask sand
if she wearies
of waves wetting her body
swimming under her shirt
no she shivers every time
BUMBU CLAT
yu muma bumbu clat
in bemba
bumama means
sisterhood
in jamaica
bumbu
is a curse
you hurl
going under your mother’s skirt
to shame
gu weh yu ugly
like bumba clat
as a derivative
bomba means to be wet or soaked
in lingala
bomba connotes hiding
before pads and tampons
women used cloth napkins
left them soaking in basins
(covered and concealed)
to bleach out the blood
yu is nutten but
a little bumbu clat
as a teenager
whenever i had to purchase
pads i waited
until no one else
was in line
then i made sure they
were carefully wrapped
tucked under my arm
goweh bumbu clat
monthly mortality
spills from between
our legs
but a woman’s blood
can bind long after
lust is weary
who then will understand
the song that rumbles
in your groin
the ache that is a lover’s
meditation
wha de bumbu clat
yu do is mad yu mad
unless anansism is your guise
you’ll not be able to trick the snake
to victory
but bumba as verb
creates a space
out of unease
what a bumbu clat
a male word
that wets the tongue
denouncing and advertising
the taboo and craving
ah gwane mash up
yu bumbu clat
always the instinct
to make you a splattered sweet-sop
white meat with black seeds
juice leaking on the ground
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