There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Harry, poem by Aurora Kastanias at
Oleksandr Pidvalnyi

There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Harry

There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Harry

written by: Aurora Kastanias


Smiles of my childhood build memories of my age.
As my mother taught me steps to ballroom dances
In the living room, to Cha Cha, Tango, Waltz, and Rumba,
In the car we listened to your voice on cassettes. I danced,

With Senora shook my body line, shook it all the time. Went wild!

I remember pure joy on the beach chasing coconut vendors
Calling out, like your coconut woman, “Cocco fresco! Cocco bello!”
Though it was not until a trip to Martinique that I discovered
Coconut water. And now… Well, now…

Now, just as she advised, I cook coconut water in a pot,
Make delicious rice curry and serve it very hot, and though
I have no sweet man to be taken away, if I am feeling glum
Indeed I get tipsy sipping coconut water with a “little” rum.

I grew up.

And with my best rum friend we spent many nightly hours
Laughing tenderly with John and James imagining the scene:
Their puzzled boo-boo father chasing them ‘round the place,
Their mother defending them for his ugliness is no joke to crack.

We sang. Angrily at Matilda for selling your cart and horse,
Stealing the 500 dollars you stuck up in a pillow beneath your head,
Heard you promising your friends you would never love again,
Well, we are women over forty and we are not running away.

But you are gone.

I cherish every moment I rocked with you on the banana boat,
Toasting to the docker on a drink of rum as he cried “day-o”,
Calling for Mister tally man to tally his bananas, so that at daylight
He could finally go home. And now that YOU have gone to yours,

After nearly a hundred years riding out many a storm, I hope
Angelina has brought down her concertina and is playing it for you,
Welcoming you, to wherever you both are. As for me,
I am dreaming the forest, waters and shining sand

Of my own Island in the Sun.

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