Elegba

He spoke in the language
Of the snake and the black crow
The scouring dog
The long green eucalyptus leaf
And the spilling water
Of the Rivière de l’Estère
Into the Gulf of Gonâve.

He was proud
Of the single red feather
That grew out of the bone
In the center of his skull-cap
While he danced in seamless
Hydrous movements
Watching for the tip of red
To flash into his line of eyesight
As the plume moved
Even slower
And with more grace
Than he.

He smiled
And the energy of Life
Glowed
From the porcelain
Of his small
Crooked teeth
Like a white fire
Set within black skin.

The flame was infectious
Engulfing all of those
Around him
Leaving white ash
To be trodden on
At daybreak
With the orchestra of roosters.