Clash
On nights like this May air strokes skin
like lazy fingertips, familiar sounds
nonchalantly step through speaker boxes;
his voice rough and unsteady hangs comfortably
in her air. She remembers she has a husband.
Bodies agile against the newly knit moon,
his hands become pillars, supporting her slightly
inebriated frame. She remembers she has a lover.
They sway, dip, turn to face, grasp for glances
and hurt. Consuming the hours before the tempo
tumbles and language begins to falter;
bodies flustering accents in the silence.
A procession of feet like a Cartographer’s pen.
Empty bottles hum songs to coax the morning.
Their embrace, a wistful glance, a heavy sigh,
come –a– part.
Leaving only the drunken float and stumble;
the beginning, of the short journey home.
Jamel Hall is a writer, art curator, event organizer and freelance everything else living and working in Kingston, Jamaica. His poetry focuses on the small, complex and common stories that make up human existence.