Daddy’s Little Hothead

Dark, corkscrew pigtails swing free and freeze.
She turns a pointed gaze to the sticky red smile
And fingers of a thief. The last,
Hers by right of passage, carelessly wasted
When her gaze, unaware, landed elsewhere.
She will crush the big girl.

The passionate pride of a people deceived;
Their own tide relentlessly pounding, mocking,
Biting at their heals like a hound at hunt.
Temper’s fueled steady pulse, and throbbing heat
Of their ever-summer isle,
Fuse and Burn from within, rise and redden
The cheeks of her sun-gold olive face.
The smiling desperado they saw, she sees…
But she will not believe.
She will conquer the big lie.

Capricious green eyes, fierce as the Caribbean in storm,
Locked in furious glare beneath furrowed little brows.
Her hands, defiant on overalled hips,
Ready for the fight that never comes.
Enraged with the impotence that forced
An entire generation to flee by way of the bay.
She will face the big waves.

Dark, pouting lips force taut and freeze.
She’s turned a pointed gaze to the
Sticky red lie of the big thief.
High on her father’s shoulders, the waves seem placid.
She swam once…unafraid.