‘Them Navy Boys’ by Noam Sebastian

And see that Yankee

with his belt undone and his shirt

unbuttoned.

Talking to some Trinis,

look at all of them around his lap like he was recounting

a world far, far in the distant future.

 

The echoes under the tropical lights

and his hand in her hair,

her hand on green glass Solos,

her breast on dollar imperialism, her legs

on the world.

 

She is swept up in a flood of ecstasy,

some local mother gives her blessing

under the palm tree.

A kiss on the cheek becomes a kiss on

the season and then a kiss

on the island.

 

In a few hours, he will be gone.

But, for now:

She sits there, advancing her body onto him,

drenched in it.

Her ears beat to the timbre of her heart.

 

Now, her eyes are blanched and her world is blasé.