Will we ever discover tropic? Sun, insisting in the sky, You make us wet with red dreams of freedom, burning Whereas we will not burn. By what simple means Your fire flames on these green islands, To what purpose you there in sky we on earth We cannot fathom. We squint back at you In the canefield, slaving under your venomous fist, We in streams bathe in your heated face, And those who are a little wise ask The old questions and watch the sky for rain. Sun,
Selvon, Sam, Sun, Kunapipi, 7(1), 1985.