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By Fred D'Aguair

We collected brown branches
Fallen from coconut palms
Propped them against a tree
For a center post in a tent

You brought a pinch of salt
I grabbed two handfuls of rice
You found a match I found a tin pot
We struck up a fire between stones

Half-filled the pot with water
Brought it to the boil
Added the salt and I licked
Grains stuck to your palm

Dumped in the rice after we
Picked it clean of stalks
Watched the pot though
We knew all about watched pots

And for plates we used dasheen
Leaves and for spoons our
Fingers and we talked with
Our mouths full about children

How many we would have
And the ratio of boys to girls
You wanted more girls
I preferred more boys

And that would have been that
Were it not for the tiredness
After a meal that necessitated
Sleep in our little tent of coconut

Branches and the two of us
Curled up together as we
Imagined we would be
When we grew big and began

All this building of a house
And cooking and planning
For children in earnest
But for now we sleep