麻豆社

Flight of the Firstborn

He streaks past his sixteenth year,
small island life stretched tight
across his shoulders
his strides rehearsing city blocks
college brochures
airline schedules
stream excitedly through his
newly competent hands
his goodbyes blurred like neon
on a morning suddenly gone wet

I'm left stranded
on a tiny patch of time
still reaching
to wipe the cereal from his smile.

from The Oxford Book of Caribbean Verse, ed Brown and McWatt, OUP, 2005