somewhere off the coast of

ivoried island like a bare bone 

of a slave ship

like an arid dream  sanded 

barren but for scrub the smooth lies

 a stray among the stranded plastic

castaways of the atlantic blue in the face

nothing for beachcombing 

osprey plane sailing

elsewhere the sun-beds here the shack

selling trinkets they once sold

shelling out the tourists buy then bye

back to all-inclusive ghetto

in cinq-star luxury the bipeds

off the cruise ship 

blancmange flesh to lobster

served by the smiling 

quelle belle noire