This is Chris Abini's 'Blue,' from Dog Woman in 2004
Africans in the hold fold themselves to make room for hope. In the afternoon’s ferocity, tar, grouting the planks like the glue of family, melts to the run of a child’s licorice stick. Wet decks crack, testing the wood’s mettle. Distilled from evaporating brine, salt dusts the floor, tickling with the measure into time and the thirst trapped below.
II The captain’s new cargo of Igbos disturbs him. They stand, computing the swim back to land. Haitians still say: Igbo pend’c or’ a ya! But we do not hang ourselves in cowardice.
III Sold six times on the journey to the coast, once for a gun, then cloth, then iron manilas, her pride was masticated like husks of chewing sticks, spat from morning-rank mouths. Breaking loose, edge of handcuffs held high like the blade of a vengeful axe, she runs across the salt scratch of deck, pain deeper than the blue inside a flame.
IV The sound, like the break of bone could have been the Captain’s skull or the musket shot dropping her over the side, her chains wrapped around his neck in dance.
I think the poem is about a Nigerian princess or person of some sort trapped from something and she eventually breaks free. She's on a ship with other slaves.
I pat myself and blink my eyes cause I've made it here, to the top, staring at the bottom of my peers . Panache look, glance at me as you stop and stare, I double nothing I’m magic, abracadab-rare.
Crawl before you walk, grab a non-existent pair, of shoes, clueless of what it takes to make it there. Trapped in the moment, check yourself, grab a flare, set it up, look above, shoot it in the air.
Contained memories and that in fact you held dear, different for everyone, suffer massive wear-and-tear. Damage, hard to hold, bad to share, so severe. cheating me out of life doesn’t sound like it’s fair.
Common sense is something new to me, wasn't aware, what I do versus everyone is something I'd compare. Being myself you know it'd still be unfair. Catch an acrid dagger, such a dare.
Get out my mind, heart, face, and rockin’ chair, walk a mile in my shoes, you'd want a pair. Building feelings up, they fall with no repair, don’t play games with me, I prefer truth or dare, 21 questions, minesweeper, or solitaire,
My supporters reside here, safe to say I'm not alone, high-school prepares and shares ideas till you're nearly grown. Teachers verbalize and realize, to this day they still don't know, benevolence induces under-breath talking and mental groans.
Flaws underweight and emasculate speaking tones, ring-tones relieve patience and excite none to most. From 1-6 I'm a 7 in 11 polls, of being weird yet I'm here to show how poems flow.
Pen to paper combination like a one-to-two, I don't stutter, probably a symptom from the flu. Peer pressure kills moments and yells "come close," like sweat, those emotions are extremely gross.
Not with the 'in crowd,' astounded that it's nice to know, persistence is the resistance to a firefly's glow. Vehemently prepared for school's roles, people abase me, I ignore it and loath.
Procrastination siphons life of written growth, Past girlfriends make me stiff like a head-to-toe. Look from a peer, it appears they don't know, I'm socially awkward from my latest woes.
Sore from acumen and how life goes, can't stand emotions so I'm sitting on the coast. To the extent I get cold, flip the frame I froze, haven't glared cause I stare at choices chose.
Karma's bites like a mosquito, round' and round' it goes, Repair and share to everyone, damages photos. Enough has been done, 9-0-2-1-0, I'm going home, have a great life, leave me alone.
Two fingers on queen, mind on king, like a singer on the scene, his moves are seen. Determination talks, fear may show, patience is the key, 'winner' on the door.
Takes time to plan, your moves and such, sit not stand, pieces soft to the touch. Gray shines on pieces, left untouched, shadows appear, emotions smear when he's lost his clutch.
The roofs and walls fall, bad feeling in his gut, time to win, again he's had enough. Tell a friend, buddy, or somebody this boy is tough, to be a winner and see the glimmer, the road is dear.
Eyes shine and pupils get bigger as the crowd screams, don't have sorrow for the other, player, and time, for another, game that is, after victory.
'Game face' on, as you can see, "CHECKMATE!" he says, like a player. Pieces come to life, patiently waiting, his moment has come to feel the glory.
Like learning you're not the father on Maury, like a champion with an unraveling story. Flip the pages, don't have any worry, he’s won too much, very national.
He’s sly and such, Jr. rational, beat you in a rush, very tactical, thinking ahead, mathematical. Sitting down, looking, contemplating, don’t challenge him, Mr. intimidating.
Boom! Boom! Pow! Go team! Something might happen, as it seems. Throw her up and watch her fly, shoes are birds, lifted up into the sky.
Trusted by teammates, thrown by friends, pain in a moment, memory never ends. Fragile as love, high like a dove, benevolent to many, quiet to some.
No more cheer-leading, she’s had enough, into the sport, she fits like a glove. The mat talked to her, saying, "Come here," Not expected to happen, she wanted to cheer.
Wanted to talk, felt like playing, body hit floor, I'm just saying. Walked out the door, eventually quit, left her stunned, nothing left to get.
