Water laps against the hull, against swells,
against ebbing. In times of fight or flight
this tricked-out catboat has served very well;
enough room for us to curl up, out of sight,
in its bottom. Slow hours; your back pressed
against my chest, your bottom pressed against
my cock, my fingers pressed against your nest
of curls. Each time your nipples and clit tensed.
Each time you groaned, “Wi, gran frè!” Paul Gauguin
would have loved seeing you squirt up sea spray;
your blue-coral hue soaking my fingers ––.
When we sail back to Jacmel, your cousin
will frown at these new stains, at how you sway
as you walk, at how your smile now lingers.
In Haitian Creole, Gran Frè translates into, “Big Brother.” Jacmel is a port city on Haiti’s southern coast. A catboat has a single sail set well forward in its hull. Winslow Homer’s 1870s painting, “Breezing Up (A Fair Wind),” features a catboat riding into the wind. Paul Gauguin was a French Post-Impressionist artist whose work featured Polynesian women in various stages of undress. 1900s Paris couldn’t get enough.