By Joy Khan
They even gouge my sand.
My pacifying granules.
Fragments of my home, by the trillion,
They haul from between my toes.
Bottled up in enamouring crystal sheaths,
Swathed with baby blue ribbon.
“A taste of Jamaica,”, they scrawl with audacity.
Loaded into their, carry-on Louie Vs.
Aboard their, first-class leather seats.
The perpetuation of tropical fantasies,
On repeat.
They’ll never descry the torturous taste,
Of my unceasing hunger pains.
Serving the tourist his sizzling plate,
While dinner or current is tonight’s debate.
Bustling sunset sangrias on the shoreside,
I find myself enthralled by the magnetic pull.
Quarter moon evenings compel me the greatest,
They coerce me to ponder my graciousness.
Tides are most shallow amidst this phase,
Seducing imposters with their mellow waves.
Deeper and deeper, into waters they drift,
Distracted by conversation and joyance.
Oh, how strategically deceived,
Low tides make for sudden deeps.
I ponder my decency in moments like these,
My spirit pleads “salvage them!”,
While my feet evade the scene.
Tossed from delirium, acquainted tones,
“Bartender, bartender! My mojito?”
What I would do for a moment of regency;
The opportunity to avenge my city.
Restore the innocence of the white man’s mistress.
Sever each crystal sheath,
Shatter every tropical dream.
If tables were turned, even one day alone,
His foreign teen fetish would heed to the morgue.
Slashing his throat, with the very heels he adored.
Redeeming my city of sacrifice.
Joy Khan is a young media production scholar with a passion for equity, cultural studies and writing. She’s an advocate for Black creative expression and loves to be an inspiration to others while embracing her own journey as a young creative. The focal point of her projects often surround challenging oppressive systems rooted in white supremacy. She advocates practically as a member of the Anti-Black Racism Student Advisory Committee at Ryerson University and creates bi-weekly content about student-relevant topics as a SpiritLive Blog Writer.
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