Omissions I—
——trim, scissor, treasure——
——what is trite, what is darling, what is
mine——when I landed
at Norman Manley I couldn’t complete
the customs form my
address of stay a vague neighborhood——Hope
Gardens or Pastures——
so I waited while the root bound and leaf
free branched through to claim
baggage and bredren. “Here for the fashion
show?” asked the border
woman——“One of the models?” Half-tempted
to say yes, what then——
instead I gave a neighbor’s name——the one
sent to fetch me, you
en route from Glasgow——the one paged——speakers
blazed over the crowd
like garage band tunes down a hill——fuchsia
bougainvillea
petals drifting around me, your sister
as she explained why
she came back——did she ask about us——what
I was——how we met——
did I wake itchy with mosquito frets?
Stranger with no host
a lone ghost behind baroque bars——a ring
of keys——your cousin
a shadow who kept her distance, locked doors
after me——is there
art in the banal, a recalled detail
the moments between
minutiae——to live on the slope and not
the plateau——so much
cut on the way up——privilege pronounced
privlist——choose the fist
of a final faux——the festival ruck
confused Yankee me
with the Canuck who stealth won the Common-
wealth——similar height,
white linen, wavy honey hair——dismissed
by sucked-teeth, those flip
Antillean “why you dress like him?” tsks——
rescued by your quip,
what an insult——he’s a Hector and you’re
Achillean wit——
Omissions II—
——in any story
there is white space between the curves and lines——
vacant beach, lifeguard
raking trash from the sand and rocks——a white
crab as it grapevines
from a hole to the aquamarine edge——
omissions, censored
bits, the off limits——sepia branches
and bricks, the flaking
trellis paint of a lover’s lane, fallen
flame of the forest
blossom——not the jump but the interval
between the crab quick
to retreat——the reef that quells the inlet
tide——the calaloo
and saltfish, plantains and breadfruit, the juice
from mangos and limes
and secret ingredients——lacunae
the you’s truth that is
not the I’s to sooth scissor or to shell——
Omissions III—
——no erasures here——
no black boxed text to mask a name or sex——
only exclusions
oblique slants that include the tiny ants
that tickled my skin
as we slept on sweat damp sheets, illusion
of separate rooms
connected by a bath. Or rented steads
across the island——
covert visits to your Woodside tree house
the mosquito tent
canopy our bodies diaphanous——
or the slide and brush
in Parratee, a too narrow mattress
between swamp and sea
cousin in the twin next to us a bummed
ride to Calabash——
what is present what is absent what is
next——slippery slope
of abs pecs glutes and hypotheticals——
we fumbled with shirts
and shorts in the suite’s entry hall, discrete
and metrical——meet
me on the beach——bring a sheath exits cock-
blocked in the cabin’s
common room by old friends——these phimotic
lines loosened by false
equivalence——anecdotes not the same
as evidence——shell
and stone side by side on a jetty, wave
spray, coruscating
display of dotted and dashed lines——clip this——
blade touching blade——crop
and cleave and scissor away the pillars
of redact and rile——
Omissions IV—
——what does time measure
but amber conflations——the hennaed dreads
that caressed my chest
the cupid’s bow and quiver at my neck
a thumb then a tongue
jaw traced as fingers trussed a honey tuft——
on my flight back I’ll bend,
fetch a book——the girl next to me, first flight
off the island, will
touch that same tuft——whisper the same “so soft”——
a queer interval——
you reappear——a prolonged edge of aches
left unsaid——naked
bodies draped and you thread words I’ve waited
a year to hear——back
to chest chin on neck the reach around beats
of a tumescence
released from recrimination, from not
letting you then spend
the night, free from time’s triangle of flight——
Matthew Hittinger’s most recent book is Thought * Frost * Voodoo (Harbor Editions, 2024), a hybrid collection of poems and prints. Favorite revenge story: when a nihilistic Evil-lyn seizes the power of Grayskull for herself, overthrows the abusive Skeletor, destroys the afterlife of heroes, and tries to unravel the cosmos to permanently end all suffering.
