to the Trinidadian woman who exclaimed:
then you does do it in the light?
Yours was a kind of lovemaking that excluded
the sight of each others tortured faces,
excluded fingernails and the act of crashing
into headboards. Yours was the kind never done
in cane fields or at noon. Yours, the unachieved
orgasm. I am sorry for the brazeness
with which the young speak of scented candles
and blue bulbs - the way we have illuminated
the in and out of sex. Sorry, for the raisin
of desire it must have awoken in you. Dear lady,
we could not guess the ritual rolling up of skirt hems
when you allowed him just a few thrusts -
always, always in the darkness. Astonishing,
that your children were fathered by a silhouette.
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