This is for other tongues
that will never flap again
for other songs that may
never become street jams
for children to mime
for emotional girls to cry to
—now we know that there is little hope in
heartbreaks
we break and heal, unlike this land sick
in all locations
This is for that market down-sliding
into someplace like grave or tomb, self-made;
for noises sinking in the throat of its makers
for chaos at the market place
for camp fires
for hunger
and other hungers
like the longing for touch of a lover
like the desires to dance again
This is for a country
that has tumors
all over her skin
I rise for that country
Haiti.