Everett

English

15 March, 15:25

How would you describe the tone of this poem?

Down the dead streets of sun-stoned Frederiksted,

the first free port to die for tourism,

strolling at funeral pace, I am reminded

of life not lost to the American dream;

5 but my small-islander's simplicities

can't better our new empire's civilized

exchange of cameras, watches, perfumes, brandies

for the good life, so cheaply underpriced

that only the crime rate is on the rise

10 in streets blighted with sun, stone arches

and plazas blown dry by the hysteria

of rumor. A condominium drowns

in vacancy; its bargains are dusted,

but only a jeweled housefly drones

15 over the bargains. The roulettes spin

rustily to the wind-the vigorous trade

that every morning would begin afresh

by revving up green water round the pierhead

heading for where the banks of silver thresh.