Calypso In Rumshops
for Ian McDonald

have to make a poem, an apology
must apologize to Ian McDonald

who, in the company of, in the presence of
David Dabydeen, of Derek Walcott,
I, with a gesture of disgust, dismissed

not wanting his admiration or appreciation
of something I said, considered clever, timely

in a session with Dabydeen, with Walcott
at Carifesta X, in Guyana

elated to be in dialogue, in the same room
with these giants, to be meeting them

a dream come true, my heart beating,
meeting them, opportunity to get to know them
and to be known by them

Dabydeen introduces me to this white man
Caucasian from the Caribbean

uninterested in his kind
in someplace inside me, accusing him still

for what I write to climb out of
use my pen to dig my way out of

dignity my destination and he pops up
and I shut off and he shuts up
stops whatever it was he’d commenced saying

don’t recall the point at which I realized
that that white man was Ian McDonald

whom I had been loving a long time
longing to meet a long time

author of Jaffo the Calypsonian
poem taught to BJC classes years before

I ended up falling into it, being baptized in it

I’d have kissed his hand had it clicked
I kissed my teeth instead, cussed, disgusted

cussing myself ever since, wanting to
needing to apologize

wanting to meet him still to thank him
for Jaffo, his rumshops, his gift


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
9:24 p.m. 25.06.09