I simply had to find a way to pull myself from my Haitian paradise (of course I came back) in order to honour this month of poetry – particularly as I missed most of March and February’s honours (women and blacks, respectively).

For today, a micropoem – and it is not for the foolish of April.

(this will stand)

With the same comfort the clouds

hug the mountains’ shoulders,

your heart may rest upon mine,

assured the rain will always run down.