Fire under footfall.
Fire over skies.

Fire on a matchstick.
Fire in my eyes.

Fire holding hunger.
Fire seeking wood.

Fire hiding danger.
Fire feeling good.

I like to stay up
and listen
when big people talking
jumbie stories

I does feel
so tingly and excited
inside me

A little bit of rice,
a little bit of pea,
on my plate
for my tea.

A little bit of jam,
a little bit of toast,
in the mornings
when I love it most.

The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.
The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.
The hall is worried about the loose banister.

My love is like a well-read book
which makes me smile each time I look.
It shouts and whispers, roars and sings
it grounds me and it gives me wings.