There are waves
that beat against
a wooden vessel
like the mallets
that beat a story
And in the hold
there are bodies
bolted down

And when the waves roll
and the ship rocks
there’s a clang of iron
like a hammer
coming down

There are waves
that rock against
a wooden vessel
and there’s moaning
in the hull

There’s an anchor
and a landing
iron clanging
voices coughing
as the ship’s hands
haul the bodies
in to dock

There’s a market
and an auction
and a mallet
like a hammer
striking
when a deal
is rung

There is iron
flesh
and silver
and a hammer
striking
“done”

There are judges
in the markets
walking aisles
to weigh
the cargo’s
worth

Then
there’s iron
shoulder
muscle
and a bullwhip
lashing
flesh

There are feet
that strike
the earth
like mallets
and there’s rhythm
in their labor
like the raging
in the wind storm
striking hull
and mast

There’s a roar
that shatters
iron—
and arms
that hoist a new flag
and there’s thunder
in a trumpet
blast

There’s a vessel
plowing oceans
with a stolen
human cargo
and there still
are many more
to come