I almost feel free
here in the kitchen
released from the stocks
and the whip
and the eyes
of the overseer
as he stands over me,
seeing
my suffering
Here in the kitchen, the girls laugh and tease
they call me silly, and giggle, and say, please
sing to us, Golden Beak, just one more verse
to help us dream sweet daydreams
of peace!
So while they slice and spice and sweeten and ice
golden pineapples made cold
by blocks of frozen water
brought all the way from some distant
north
in the hold
of a ship
floating,
while they do these amazing, impossible things
I sing my rhymed daydreams
of Kings’ Day and carnivals
Just imagine, they sigh when I’m finished
how sweet to know that time passes
the calendar moves
like a horse
galloping
Soon it will be Kings’ Day!
We would hide piles of straw under our beds
if we had beds like Don Nicolás and the other
free children
Just imagine, on the morning of Kings’ Day
we would find gifts
just like the ones the Three Wise Kings
brought to the baby Jesucristo
in his straw-softened manger