Exit: Port Antonio

Bridge of my mothers, I am
not the same as when I arrived.

How many have come
across the Atlantic

to find you?
To bury themselves

in your green bush,
relax in your salted gap?

I have buried my body
beneath you—under

your anxious & hungry wave—
your warm saliva

sliding between my thighs
& tickling my neck.

I have laid against you,
remember? I have laid with you,

in the same way
Black bodies have always

laid with you, wanting
to break against you

& cut loose the thread
holding us down to earth.

I wanted to be a new dawn
or womxn or mind. Remember

your many beds? Our soft endings
under split wood & rusted metal?



This poem is from Pangyrus’s poetry collection, What Tells You Ripeness: Black Poets on Nature, Edited by Nikki Wallschlaeger (available in our store).

Image: “Boston Beach” by Nigel Burgher, licensed under CC 2.0.

Faylita Hicks
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