but this is a good moment. Isn’t it?—I can run to my own
playground, remember a cupped palm next to my ear. I can call
my mother who is yet alive.
I can claim my memories. She can answer her ringing
telephone. I won’t forget her name or mine.
FRACTURE
West Africa, c. 15th century to 19th century
The men arrive. Slave ships are anchored.
The men arrive. The traders gather.
The men arrive. The traders march.
The men arrive. The war is waged.
The men arrive. The fire comes.
The men arrive. The people run.
The men arrive. The chase begins.
The men arrive. The dead abandoned.
The men arrive. The iron sounds.
The men arrive. The people march.
The men arrive. The sea. The sea.
The men arrive. The traders haggle.
The men arrive. The silver laughs.
The men arrive. The castle groans.
The men arrive. The door opens.
The men arrive. The water welcomes.
The men arrive. The mourning longs.
The men arrive. Our names shall scatter.
BAAY’S MOAN WITH CHORUS
Someplace/Someplace/Someplace, c. 1761
oh: a war
I have touched my belly
in expectancy, strummed
oh: the family stolen
meat-covered ribs.
The navel’s planetary cavern.
oh: slaves already
The thump behind my ear,
talking of cleared ashes.
oh: the lowly caste
Where is my wife?
Where is my daughter?
oh: perhaps a master
I beat my shameful forehead.
I wanted a boy, hard
oh: benevolent tyrant
foot walking me forward.
A boy, then, a man,
oh: does it matter
I thought I preferred—
and here I am, gripping
oh: the family sold
the phantom skirts
of women.
oh: oh oh oh
Where is my wife?
Where is my daughter?
ENTREATY: YAAY
Someplace/Someplace/Someplace, c. 1761
PHILLIS was brought
from Africa to America
small creature spinning
in the Year 1761
my hands reaching
between Seven and Eight
Years of Age
Without any Assistance
still my child
from School Education
and by only what she
was taught in the Family
mine
and don’t forget me
or this piece of land
oh come back
attained the English
language to which she
was an utter Stranger
before
my sweet girl
please don’t leave
to the great Astonishment
of all who heard her
touch my hands
walk to my side
This Relation is given
by her Master who bought her
JOHN WHEATLEY
Boston
my rare seed Yaay is calling
come to me
AN ISSUE OF MERCY #2
The Transatlantic Journey of Goonay, c. Summer 1761
Peas mashed with possibly
tainted fish A daily pint of water
No blankets mother father
clothes underwear dance of modesty
Why the threats of diphtheria tetanus
malaria smallpox diarrhea dehydration
common cold diseases rape
Why the screaming of the grown shelf mates
a woman or two giving birth Newborns kept
by sailors or capriciously tossed to sharks
Why the banquet of placenta left for rats
The shackled the crowded begging to be killed
Why germs and tribes rechristened Negro
chattering below Vomit
Why no bleach Why no soap to clean
the effluvia of prayer Why did she survive
asthma and fear on that journey Why didn’t
the ring in her nose get infected
Why did she have to sleep marinating
in her own shit and piss Why not death
in the middle of this Why did this child survive
Lord Lord have mercy
FOUND POEM: DETENTION #1
Isaac Chotiner interviewing Warren Binford for the New Yorker, June 22, 2019
Question:
How many kids are
at the [detention] facility
[in Clint, Texas] right now,
and do you have some sense
of a breakdown of where
they’re from?
Answer:
… We were so shocked
by the number of children