Baby boy Ocean

swallowed me,

he gulped

and

suckled my body,

tugging milk from my breasts,

and womb,

umbilical cord twisting into shark teeth

corroding into

dust

and in the walls

of that womb

I heard a gentle voice praying

that

“Mama ocean needs nourishment”

There is smell of salt

and ackee on

coal fire

in grandmother’s backyard

that

awoke

my mother

who sat by

my blood that trickled

into red earth

the duppy tree

pulling her into

lamenting with ancestors

I, cannot become a woman

in this world

the men will breed

into me

seeds of destruction

knead my breasts,

weave copper in my uterus

but

the cursed baby

will be born into this family

the ocean,

my child who hears the oceans,

blue child of the oceans,

let him corrode me

that blood,

was of my dying baby,

my uncle,

sat idly by,

his pants already unbuckled,

bulging eyes

transfixed

on breasts

that bounced

with fresh milk

and

newness.

my eyes sore from the pain

of the death,

that disappeared

when I held Ocean in my arms

and he consumed me.

Neptune Naiadis is a poet, twice published in the Caribbean writer’s journal0 and a current student at the University of the West Indies. She is an aspiring novelist, animator and young businesswoman currently running a small handmade jewellery business. Her favourite book, as of 2021 is Fauna by Jacqueline Bishop.

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