Rigorous
Volume Two, Issue 1



Darryl Wawa


Draw me a Veve

Gates with carved hearts
like all the metal-work
here
draw me a Veve

Home
is where I find myself
again
smelling these trash filled streets
and cheap whores
                                   home
The slums climb
over the hill
west
of the Brazzilian consulate
paint peeling
testifying to the
dry crispy light
of Port-au-Prince       what it lacks
so white
it seems to
bleach
the streets
and hills
and the ocean
far away
reminds you
that home is
                  an island, AYITI

memories like motorcycle
exhaust smoke
in the air
memories like the light
dry
                      don't go back
      but I am back


Does one ever truly adapt?
Things you'll never know
                         or should care about

Is the body a map?
                       an archetype
being drawn over time
by the year
the month
the day
the hour

              to a
                   pose
specific
      this place

this black cross
tells me:
                Baron
'bare yours'
This cemetery
in the middle
of the road
              this place

Veves
Tattooed on my arm
and chest
permanence?
      they call them mysteries

I'm not sure
               or want to be




Kreyol

Not a melody
a drum beat
               slave language
like Vodou.

How they talked
to each other
 what they'd say
           about their masters

Janl Pase l Pase

     it'lll be how it'll be

think privilege
          think
fatherless and hungry
       and most of them

Is not knowing any better a crime?
   What do you know
               of the market place?

of
buckets and baskets and bags
over necks and

          backs

sweat not so
sweet
            whip-lash

     not even
like rotting fruit
sitting by the street
or alley
with the vendors
not so sweet
themselves
           'Speak up'
they mean
       when they say
      'go to hell'
       gyet manman ou
We are sweet like Sweet Mickey
and my grandmother cooked sweet
plantains
Mu and Mu
Ripe and wall
Language a
sound with
history
             in twos
           both
bleached and blackened
Corn roasting on charcoal
by the dirt
houses in corridors
with no access
to clean
water or
or amenities or
air or
barbed wire fences
with armed guards
        and
bullet proof cars
People and trash and
feces
as one
and
Colonialism and Solouque
and Papa Doc, and Aristide
and Bill Clinton
and Sweet Mickey
                        ands with no ends

our
buts with no Vaseline
A popped condom
in a dry whore
          is that rape?
 and GNB
 stands for
'dick in the ass'
and           another
failed movement and revolution
with bullets and blood

Apaid was paid
and went back to
adding
                 milk in the coffee

The glass of broken history
sharper than an aids needle
sharper than USAID


Darryl Wawa: "I am a a Port-au-Prince born Haitian-American who studied Photography and Creative writing. I enjoy chocolate and good books. That said, maybe a movie is a good book. I love to work with images and words and their pairing."




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