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Tuesday, 10 August 2021

Lady Macbeth's Confession - Neisha Tweed

Never mind thick night! Darkness move quick!
Madness engulf me like Jacob's coat;
colors tighten like sickness 'round me throat.
Wha it is do already can't tek back
but it still got me a wash me hand
til they sour and callus, de visions
plaguing de dark a me mind like locust.

Me conscience no business dem days
when me could grin up and skin teet1
inna company of great men
who smile up smile up wid me
an looking fava2
I know say woman like me plain wicked an conniving:
stinkin' wid ambition, smilin' close against you skin,
seeking confession wid de devil.

Now so, me lay up inna bed wid death
a-write me love letter. Got me
a crave colors to soothe me spirit;
red never could please me,
purple grind like a grater on me cheek,
orange sting like a ledda on me hot skin,
and white—mek me breast feel weight down
wid milk, got me head swirling like inna hurricane.
I chew down me bitter nails til I taste de poison

Neisha Tweed-Bell (21st century) St. Kitts and Nevis (now lives in USA)
  1. be insincere
  2. special treatment

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