I walk to the castle and tell my story, asking for help
The Count of Jibacoa swears he will protect me
Soon those who know me,
poets, scholars, doctors, priests
step forth to defend me
but a deputy comes
I am tied, draped in burlap
they take my shoes, shave my head
drag me back to the fields where I work
side by side
with these men who are marked
by the shapes of their tribes
carvings of stars, suns, and moons on dark cheeks
teeth filed to points
like the fangs of the lions they killed
when they were warriors
before the ships came and bought them
from Arab slave traders who bought them
from their own kings
or the enemies
who’d captured them
in battle
strange world