New Author Webpage




Meanderings and Muses isn't going anywhere.

BUT -


I do have a new webpage which will focus mostly on my writing.

If you're interested in reading more about my books, anthologies, and events, please click over to "Kaye Wilkinson Barley"

There are even a few videos of me reading from "Whimsey: A Novel," and from other favorite authors' work.

With more videos still to come.



The new page is a work in progress with plans for still more to come
- I'm just still trying to figure out exactly what that might be -
so check back from time to time, please.


See you there!






Monday, April 16, 2012

In Honor of National Poetry Month - Julie Dolcemaschio

The Pe’a
by Julie Dolcemaschio



The worker tosses the remains

into a vat, thoughts drift to

the driving rain and the walk home

The vat churns carcass, bone, skin and scale

into a compost fit for the strays that

line the road, while the meaty parts

make way into cans bound for the mainland



The fa’afafine (fah-fah fee-nay)

wait in the shadows as the worker

passes, bound for home, the rainsluiced divots

along the sheer cliffs, fern covered, channel

the Samoan deluge onto the pockmarked road



Colorful busses pass through the village as a quiet sea

churns unhurried, a turquoise cocoon for the pink coral

that sleeps underneath



On both sides of the road the trees sway, and an old

loosened coconut drops with a hollow thud

And the mangoes not yet yellowed and ripe

hang hard and green above the worker’s head



The river of water passes him with little notice

as he climbs the steep hill to his home

The windows, covered in worn and faded

lavalava blow inward away from the breeze

off the harbor



Alone, the worker peels the day from a worn

body, the rotten sea and blood and dried scales

shed like old skin and, home now and dry,

he stands before the mirror

and remembers



the boy who helped build a village

the teen who cleared debris from

the road after the hurricane in ‘03

the young man who heard the call

and for twelve days took to the mat

as the tafuga tapped ink into skin



using the bone of a boar

the shell of a turtle, and a hammer

The design, like angels wings

begin at the lower back

and end at the belly button

The great lattice work and symmetrical lines

crossing buttocks and rounding to the groin



Then the brutal inking down the thighs

Tap tap tap to below the knees,

coloring his legs like pants he will never remove again



The young American girl he met

in a dark bar in those young unhurried years

and courted the old fashioned way



wept on their wedding night

at first sight of his pe’a, believing

the tatu ended at his waist

seeing it only above his colorful lavalava

when he went without a shirt



Legs and buttocks covered in the ink of ages

Still toned, still sculpted, honoring the

pain and blood and sweat shed

for the honor of the pe’a



And his blond girl-bride still weeps

at his faith and his bravery



His pe’a a dark shadow against

Coffee skin in darkness

And a bright beacon in the light of day

The young girl waits and loves

and yearns, but she does not understand

the way of a Samoan man, whose dreams

did not include canned tuna and slave wages



The son of a village chief turns to the

smiling girl who awaits him

Bright and nude and unsoiled in his bed

In his best dreams he saw her, just this way



The moon on her hair, shining on her skin

and he believes that tomorrow will come again

And then again with just a smile

Only her smile




1 comment:

Beth Anderson said...

Wow! Just...Wow! Gorgeous penwork, my friend. Thank you for sharing it with us.