Welcome to Paradise
For R.F.
1
It’s glut & the throat
bloat again on this cut
glass morning—sailclouds
jab the wavetops
as we sludge sand
still brimming
from last night’s
buffet: skewered
jumbo shrimp-&-sausage,
fried oysters, fried snapper,
the special tuna inside
mango marmalade.
Because I said I’d try,
but didn’t, the lone tentacle
O-ing from the island
of my bread plate.
2
All hospitals are named for a saint.
As Ben and I sunned, his grandmother
—barely post-stroke—ate
by the tube in her gut,
bright flowers on the shelf
on her “good side.” “Gorgeous!”
the nurse in her native gold
tone spoke Caribbean hoops.
3
The brochure read, Welcome to Paradise!
Over dinner, we tried to find decision as the sea voiced-over
our voices
oily tiki torches illuminating
only us.
We found her
on the floor, who knew
how long she’d been there, her fist
a curling claw.
4
When I return from the shore, she reaches unexpectedly
for my hand.
Sweet, sweet.
Lauren, Lauren.
Good.
5
The soft-shelled crab’s shell is soft.
Evolution or greasy preparation?
Go ahead, soothe your belly
with some other armor—
devour an animal’s heart,
lick the plate clean.
6
He went back for seconds
as I tried not to think of the
mercury pool
soaking my precious
middle, me toxic
as the barnacled sponge.
Good, good.
7
St. Vincent is filled with skepticism.
His halo is a mechanical
scoop glowing metal
used just to dig the damn thing out.
As a rule, intact eyeballs
on roasted whole fish
are what saveurs spoon
first—
8
The distant palm trees shrivel.
We stop
before a 10ish boy who wants to show us
his capture: jellyfish
clumped in a yellow castle pail.
“Each one has three separate bodies,”
he brags, the visored heads
of his parents beaming behind him.
“Beautiful,” I go
“But dangerous,” he corrects,
glancing back to the faces.
9
The button to lift
her bed up
and see the whole arrangement
is marked with a peeling-down
sticker.
10
Afforded me . . .
—she starts, unstuck now
as the eye & the ocean
narrows & swells—
. . . You have afforded me great pleasure.
The room fills with silence,
with room for nothing else. 