Carambola

soft

as air

on my skin

some incorporeal hand

reaches

through the night

lifts open

my sleeping eyes

guides them

to the warmth

of your fingers

splayed

across my waist

like a fan

some gentle

unconscious claim

of possession

that circuits

your mind

even

as you slumber

your hand

a sweet carambola

on my body

a rugged

five-point star

that tethers us

to each other

glides us

across

the witching hours

to morning's

bright and open door

My Beloved's Voice

a haiku

Masculine music

A lion in the lilies

The sun wrapped in clouds

Shayla Hawkins lives in Michigan and won The Caribbean Writers 2008 Canute A. Brodhurst Prize in Short Fiction

and the 2010 John Edgar Wideman Microstory Contest.