Tongues sweet with crude rum, blood pumping
with the reggae pulse of Caribbean clubs,
we stumble to the beach
to find ourselves in silence.
The conch and snail persist
in their sleepy pace
Sea star sucks at the bottom
Grape leaves shelter the pregnant hawkbills
that heave sand to hide their eggs.
Stray cats prowl empty streets
disturb the tired vagrants
and fuck incessantly.
His rough hands scuff my back
and press me tight
to his erection, urgent
rubbing at the skin
of my stomach, it reminds me
I'm hungry. I squirm and think of worms,
thrusting their long bodies
through soft earth.
His dark skin reeks of want.
Sweat from his temples smears on my face.
I taste the salt on my cheek,
feel my thighs spread and he pushes in.
The full moon glides in and out of waves,
the light is blinding.
I shut my eyes.
Try not to think of food.
My hips sharp
our bodies flex and breathe
rough in the sand.
A hawksbill moans with the last dripping egg dropped.
The vagrant comes in his hand,
I hear his heavy exhale fall.
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