hanging like a dew drop
of a concrete leaf
broken back of a spine
no tree to speak of
but onè respe
to a graveyard of stones
clutched to the surface
of an unfaithful earth sphere

now small sparrows of dark ruby skin
cling to rubble and stones
or it could be that dust
clings to them so earth, flesh
and sweat hold one another
life embraces death and likewise
death quivers in the flutter
of fabric houses, rusting tombs.

in the dewdrop and the song
of sparrows sitting in mud
onè respe, respect and honour
in a good death & a pointless death
to a graveyard of silence
to sparkling glass panes in sunlit rain
swinging in the breeze of hope & folly
there is no rest in Haiti.

Posted via email from Tash McGill