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Vulcans
By Paul Cameron Brown
Adder toothed flowers snake
the broken ground where
molten tongues cremated
the twisted, bunker forms -
a Latin cross of
green jubilation
lies matted atop a
sweating road, calligraphy in broken stone.
As trembling shale collapses into thin hills,
light fuels to cross the Pale.
A little exploratory weeding droops this lava rain.
A long, dove fence comprised
of stones & rattled by ancient slaves
winds its distance
along the gully
borne in fire, percussion caps,
cretin growth
lobbed under
creeping wire.
Shafts of pioneer light
delight in coral baskets,
empty twilight darts the
agave swords' mauve pitcher plants.
The 1692 Tremens decimated Port Royal[1]
- moved a ravine from
florid to mossy shadow
where antler shoots today announce
temperate plants, eclipse by-gone tropic flowers.
[1] An earthquake destroyed in the seventeenth century not only the
stronghold of Jamaica's pirates but also changed the topography of
the North Shore creating Fern Gully.
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