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