Notes
First Love
A Malindi picnic, silver sand,
palms, breeze and sandwiches.
Felicity, just in her teens
hands this boy a ring of grass.
He crumples it under his knees -
love-tokens may be fine at twenty,
but not for boys of ten -
he dives into the sea and escapes.
For two whole weeks
he misses coral reefs,
surfing thunderous breakers
and even the final barbecue.
At school, he makes this pay.
"Got a girl last hols," he says.
"Did you kiss her?"
"You bet. She's called Felicity."
"Will she give you lasting felicity?"
The boy thinks of her brown body
her long tapering legs
and sort of wishes ...
Colonial Scene
The Frangipani tree worships the sun
loading the fresh air with incense,
a muddy 'furrow' ribs the garden
bustles under the bridge and shoots
through to the tennis courts.
The lawn is set for drinks:
'Boys' in white check spirit levels
then freeze beside their tables.
bougainvillaea glistens,
grass stands putting trim
and sun-birds hang in radiance.
From the steps the 'Head Boy'
scrutinises his workers,
the High Commissioner
slips easily down in silks,
while under the floorboards
a puffadder is sliding,
looking for food.
Shafts of light reveal
bottles, papers, cans
and roll after roll
of mosquito net.
Explorers
A buzzard sweeps the approaches,
jellyfish guard the strand,
while a seal surfaces now and then
to keep an eye on intruders.
Like raiders in our blow-up boat,
we've braved the currents
shoved off countless sands
and stuck a hankied broomstick
in a hole to claim our island.
The island won't be claimed.
It sends its airforce at our heads,
wings flutter, beaks specked in red
threaten our eyes, stones tear our feet.
How these terns hate us!
Blinded we scramble to the launch,
bloodying the rocks
Why does the boat drag so?
the teaspoon paddles give no way?
gouts of ocean crash in on us?
A breeze drifts us to land,
shriekings and flappings fade,
the seal nods to our passage,
and the buzzard flaps away.
We've had enough adventuring.
Nature can keep her island.
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