Siesta: Barbados

From bed we heard
the gardener move down the hedge
of oleander, chopping out the weeds
with her long, curved cutlass,
and singing. A lizard gripped the coarse
stucco of the ceiling. It pulsed,
it cocked its head; and when the blade
rang out against a stone
it flicked its question mark of a tail
around to the other side. . . .
Sea breeze swelled the curtain,
and tried the shuttered door . . . .
and then you reached for the hem
of my red dress with blue leaves
and lemon lilies—the one you bought for me
from the woman who came to our porch
balancing a bundle on her head.