Says the Blood to the Slave Trader

 

I saw you there once,

head, cloud thick,

smoking your ruins.

 

There is a room and a loneliness

inside it. A black         hole

itch I cannot reach.

 

A piece

 

missing.

 

All the mestizo in one room;

an island, chamber

of a gun. Who did we see

if not for ourselves?

 

Girl.

Ache.

Skin.

Revolt.

 

Small death in a new  tongue.

A song for each haunted

daughter and son.

 

First       born.

First       to see.

First       stolen.

 

I am the one

you forgot, Spaniard.

The low howl. Night

skin. Big mouth grin.

 

A blood witch

unknown to her

own power. Still

will never crawl.

 

No         rope.

No         chain.

No         whip.

 

I have already died

as many deaths

as the body can. I am

a room full, ocean

 

floor of limbs, slow

translation. There is

nothing common

 

in this blood. Rumor

is it lingers. Can spit

itself back into body.

 

Back into what survives.

 

Did you know I could

 

 

levitate?

 

 

I built this room.

Everything in it

 

is mine.

---

Sarah Myles Spencer is a mama, poet, singer/songwriter who’s worked with a variety of artists, including Snoop Dog, E-40, and (the late) Davy Jones. A multi-time Best of the Net Nominee and Pink Door Fellow, her work appears in Drunk in a Midnight Choir, A La Palabra: The Word is a Woman Anthology – Mothers & Daughters, Words Dance Magazine, Requiem Magazine, and more. For more info, visit www.sarahmylesspencer.com