A painted sky covers the townspeople
and the gadflies have been forewarned.
Many gather for the morning arrival.
Budding bullies come to release home-grown hurt
transferred into positive energy,
devoid of human T/error.
RED NEON WORDS
Bodies bristling with energy and fuss
Children join, pull away,
Arms aiming sky bound, meeting at the middle,
Clap, flailing for freedom,
Fingers point then meet at the middle
Like connective tissue to disjointed minds and societal schisms.
JOY, MUSIC, CARAMELIZED APPLES
There’re usually a dozen families at the carnival,
Families of dysfunction,
Marinating in jubilance upon arrival,
Seasoned in satisfied sweat upon departure.
Here, rest is communal,
A camp of sorts, bodies wrap
and twist pretzelized to keep warm in the air,
Radical parents against reconciliation cast aside on a cold bench.
Here is where hope lives,
Where the dust never settles
The only place where the social worker can call
And it will actually be true when you say
‘Yes, I’m happy here,
Here is where I’d like to stay.’
Here is home, here is heaven.
Here ends the recurring dream.
and the gadflies have been forewarned.
Many gather for the morning arrival.
Budding bullies come to release home-grown hurt
transferred into positive energy,
devoid of human T/error.
RED NEON WORDS
Bodies bristling with energy and fuss
Children join, pull away,
Arms aiming sky bound, meeting at the middle,
Clap, flailing for freedom,
Fingers point then meet at the middle
Like connective tissue to disjointed minds and societal schisms.
JOY, MUSIC, CARAMELIZED APPLES
There’re usually a dozen families at the carnival,
Families of dysfunction,
Marinating in jubilance upon arrival,
Seasoned in satisfied sweat upon departure.
Here, rest is communal,
A camp of sorts, bodies wrap
and twist pretzelized to keep warm in the air,
Radical parents against reconciliation cast aside on a cold bench.
Here is where hope lives,
Where the dust never settles
The only place where the social worker can call
And it will actually be true when you say
‘Yes, I’m happy here,
Here is where I’d like to stay.’
Here is home, here is heaven.
Here ends the recurring dream.
Akhim Alexis is a writer born and raised in Trinidad and Tobago. He is currently pursuing an MA in Literatures in English at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. His work has appeared in journals and magazines, such as Human/Kind Journal, The McNeese Review, Finished Creatures, Capsule Stories and The Caribbean Writer.