Kei Miller is a Jamaican poet, novelist, essayist and blogger; he’s published nine books. His third novel, Augustown, won the 2017 OCM Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature. I had quite the time – difficult but sweet -selecting a poem of his to feature today. I’ll be reading his prose as I intend a long overdue return to Caribbean Literature. Enjoy!
This Zinc Roof
This rectangle of sea; this portion
Of ripple; this conductor of midday heat;
This that the cat steps delicately on;This that the poor of the world look up to
On humid nights, as if it were a crumpled
Heaven they could be lifted into.God’s mansion is made of many-coloured zinc,
Like a balmyard I once went to, Peace
And Love written across its breadth.This clanging of feet and boots,
Men running from Babylon whose guns
Are drawn against the small measureOf their lives; this galvanised sheet; this
Corrugated iron. The road to hell is fenced
On each side with zinc —Just see Dawn Scott’s installation,
A Cultural Object, its circles of zinc
Like the flight path of johncrows.The American penny is made from zinc,
Coated with copper, but still enough zinc
That a man who swallowed 425 coins died.This that poisons us; this that holds
Its nails like a crucified Christ, but only
For a little while. It rises with the hurricane,Sails in the wind, a flying guillotine.
This, a plate for our severed heads;
This that sprinkles rustOver our sleep like obeah;
This that covers us; this that chokes us;
This, the only roof we could afford.
——– by Kei Miller