Poem: Slave Ship

This poem was published early this month in Danse Macabre (see the announcement and link to other poems in early June post).

These are painful topics that we ignore at our peril. And yet we ignore.

Owl

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Slave Ship

cold of shackle
gnaws warmth of ankle,

steel of ice
slays sun of chest.

coins

in white palms
stare like gold irises

at whip marks
across black backs

while the civilized

stuff their sisters
in the hulls of obese

ships,

where feverish breath
frosts like scared

ghosts,

and the stolen
get locked in sprinkles
of blood,

fecal and bitten
by lice and rats.

outside
in the marketplace
sweet benefits swarm,

sugar and rum.


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