A new poem by Vahni Capildeo

Fusion, meaning:
                    burns behind eyelids
                    capillaries’ corals thickly
                    foresting their otherwise rubies, diamonds, turquoises
                    complicating the dark
                    plugged into all sockets
                    the seven hazardous mysteries
                    shuttering compression of contacts
                    the unremoved lens
                    glass will grow again
                    into the blasted cornea
                    fusion, exacting its toll:
                    colours it stole
                    vowelling the moon fuchsia
                    now snakes the crimson pathway, now the white
Fusion, meaning:
                    laughing like you don’t like it
                    dreams go by contraries
                    morning becomes electric
                    having a passion that says teal

POET'S NOTE: 'FUSION' is dedicated to the PLEASURE blog.

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Vahni Capildeo is a co-editor of  TOWN, a public arts initiative, and a contributing editor of the Caribbean Review of Books. She is the author of four books, including: No Traveller Returns (Salt, 2003), Person Animal Figure (Landfill, 2005), Undraining Sea (Egg Box, which was launched in London last month) and Dark & Unaccustomed Words (forthcoming in 2010).

READ a stellar interview with the poet here. LISTEN to Vahni reading her poetry here.  DISCOVER Capildeo's No Traveller Returns here. And a SAMPLE from her book Undraining Sea here. PHOTOS: Midnight, by Andre Bagoo, for Vahni Capildeo.