Like a safety pin pushed through
the ocean’s hem, trailing the ribbon
of the gulfstream, you enlarged
the reach of the Caribbean’s realm.

A rib set free from its middle,
you grew another island country,
atop a volcano with two shy
stepsisters who did not bloom into sky.

You stand alone in the Atlantic,
thrive in spite of isolating distances,
populated by palms that imitate
your birthing thrust of lava into air.

Your limestone cut for houses,
roofs form a white wake in the sky,
like the upside-down ships, reefs
littered aquamarine waters with.

Published in Journal of Caribbean Literatures (US)

Bermuda Palmetto Hut Paintings 009_1
-Nancy Anne Miller