Rolling on Drums


Twilight falls through the coconut palm.

The water sprinkler sends beads of vapour

Up into the Mango tree

And shapes a spectrum,

Suspended in the air.


We climb on to the forty-four gallon drums,

The bones in our feet preparing for battle,

To roll and beat on metal like wings on air.


Our feet perform a balancing act

Iron-stained and sun-baked on rusty forty-four gallon drums.


I can hear the Indian Ocean.