after Lowell





our mothers wrung hell and hardtack from row

      and boll. fenced others'

gardens with bones of lovers. embarking 

      from Africa in chains

reluctant pilgrims stolen by Jehovah's light 

      planted here the bitter

seed of blight and here eternal torches mark  

      the shame of Moloch's mansions 

built in slavery's name. our hungered eyes

      do see/refuse the dark

illuminate the blood-soaked steps of each  

      historic gain. a yearning

yearning to avenge the raping of the womb 

      from which we spring