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This poem is taken from PN Review 170, Volume 32 Number 6, July - August 2006.

Three Poems Christian Campbell

Dover to Accra

for Kamau Brathwaite

I go running from my heartstring's house in Dover
Gardens to Dover Beach in order to keep my body
tight for her, as well as to reason with my insides,
and take her route on the road - left, right, left, then follow
the curve down to the beach (keep South) . This area
is bourgeois Barbados with houses that are not extravagant
but comfortable in their gorgeousness - crowds
of bougainvillea, croton, hibiscus, pastel houses with Spanish
roofs, hurricane shutters, large terra-cotta vases. I want
a house here in Dover, I think as I run, and suddenly
petit-bourgeoisie turns to tourism. A quaint Italian restaurant,
two German crones in bathsuits and flip flops on the people's road,
a taxi driver posted on the corner outside of the Casuarina
Beach Club like a sentinel, at attention under his flags:
...


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