- (Re)Possessionat Parish St. Michael, Barbados
You sit there, wide open—lopsided streak across your faceand think this time, he won’t get out.His rage is now your rage. You’ve founda way to clutch his violence. Will he still thinkhe is God? Your words are his words: failure, victim,waste. You are done pretending to look whole,but you know he likes to play rough.You know he laughs thunder. You are tiredof trembling at storms. His cruelmeans are yours now. Your nightmareis his. He begs for hands to pinchhimself awake orfor a rest as long as death—a single want which you both share.You drag him alongbeyond the mango trees.Pieces of his plum black bodynow trash on the seaside.You pray, You give me a dark ocean,one beyond any creed;nobody will know.By sunrise, you arestained glass eyes.You are asking: who determinesthe difference between painand peace? You are gleaming.You don’t even recognize yourself. [End Page 613]
BREAUNA L. ROACH, a Detroit, MI, native, received the Gwendolyn Brooks Writers Association’s Poetry Prize. She graduated from Florida A&M University and is currently studying for the MFA in creative writing at Emerson College. She is both a Cave Canem and Callaloo Creative Writing Workshop Fellow.