LETTER FROM HAVANA

A while back I said

with my little hand upon

the tapestry of memory and my loin

leaning on the blues to find voice:

If loving you is wrong

I do not want to do right

Now though I do not possess

A thousand thundering voices

like Mazisi kaMdabuli weKunene

nor Chris Abani's mischievous courage

as I trace the shape of desire and longing

I wish I was a cartographer of dreams

but what I end up with is this stubborn question:

Should I love my heart more

because every time I miss you/that is where I find you