Two Poems

Rajiv Mohabir

all of this
brits distilled rum in coolie blood
there supplicant the high tide seasick in velvet rope
that folded complacent , flood-time money
tucked in hijabs, madrasi rumal, and pagri
keeps the sting of salt water out of eyes
this side: toil of rakes, hoes, and bhoosi-husks
today fields seeded by the toothy plough of
a three bedroom mortgage, 24kt eagle-band, el dorado
drink up drink up drink up
let’s see what the blood remembers
what sea will fit this glass shape
when what is real is not so far
dhanyavad pradan (we give thanks)
I. asirbaad
jug jug ji hai
may you live long,
my son
what so ever you do
god go deh wit you
he go give you
may you live long,
my son
II. thankyou thankyou
floridian autumnal breeze
his words drying
the cellular perspiration of dna
to leave me leaflike
crumbling in the wind
two days before
i journeyed to north country
where first we landed
maples burn
joyful conflagration in cement boxes
in the setting sun of
the equinox
III. may you live long
may this live long
may this live long
saltwater sparkling summer
refracting our rainbows on the ashen sand
from brown bodies bent in pranam supplication
the atlantic intones
rippled majesty crashing
blues and rhythm
secret song from 1838 to videsh
may this live long
may this live long
red white and blue tongues
chirping from finished boxes of icees
and phulowri on the threadbare sheets
between burning backsides and
what used to be shells
this source remains the same
whatever shore you visit
may you live long
may you live long