I wondered where they put their bones
to the boll bite
the salt-drenched
cotton crop
that became her own storm cloud,
thickening with tears or sweat.
I wondered if she could tell the difference between them
—the tears and sweat
I wonder what he dreamt of
the haunting night
galloping
ghosts snatched him
and strung him high, noose-nestled
was it of freedom or death?
I wondered if he could tell the difference between them
—freedom and death
When the last droplet traveled
down her nose—
spread wide across her face,
the great air, the last air
that broke through her lips
she fell to the earth
the richest, unloved crop—she was
her skin, agonized mahogany
bleeding into the earth
When the sun rose, a bending
creaking song
came from the branch
where the ornament swung—
glistening, shining
like an earth star
seen flickering
in the distance beyond
a sugar-caned galaxy.
Now and then,
I wonder where
they put their bones
and suddenly,
in my bout of rage
I hear them scream
as if my tongue were
an heirloom
gifted from the past.
