Louis Philippe Romer

In the beginning,
A boy and his father were,
Playing the game of Galgamesh.
All this was a big pretend pretend,
A sweet honeydew world,
With the scent of bougainvillea,
New life, sprouting seedlings,
After tropical rain,
Has softened harsh earth.

The boy one day, in a fantasy fit,
Read the stars, his fate foretold.
‘Twas his fate to be crowned, to behead,
To slay the loins from which he’d sprung,
And reap the crown from Father’s head.

This fate, gruesome though it may be,
Was a righteous cause in deed.
-Because-Father, an unfair king he was,
And here and there had other flaws.

The bougainvillea could not be saved,
From rotting back into the earth.
So too the seedlings could not help,
But grow into giant grumpy trees.

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Römer, Louis Philippe. P’e Flor Pèrdí: It’s Too Late Now. De Curaçaosche Courant, 2004.