<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div class="">Waiting on the Mayflower</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span style="font-size: 14px;" class=""><i class="">“what, to the american slave, is your 4th of july?”—</i></span><i style="font-size: 14px;" class="">Frederick Douglass</i></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""> </div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">i. august 1619</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">arrived in a boat, named</div><div class="">and unnamed, twenty, pirated</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">away from a portuguese</div><div class="">slaver, traded for victuals.</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">drowned in this land of fresh,</div><div class="">volatile clearings and folk</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">with skin like melted</div><div class="">cowrie shells. soon shedding</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">servitude. soon reaping</div><div class="">talents sown on african soil.</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">after indenture, christians,</div><div class="">colonists. not english, but</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">not yet not-white. antoney</div><div class="">and isabella, whose marriage</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">stretched the short shadows</div><div class="">of america’s early afternoon</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">into the dusky reaches of evening,</div><div class="">whose conjugal coitus spent</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">first the choice coin of africa</div><div class="">on rough virginian citizenship,</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">baptized their son, william,</div><div class="">into the church of england.</div><div class=""> </div><div class=""> </div><div class="">ii. december 1638</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">fear must have shuddered</div><div class="">into boston on the backs</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">of true believers—men and</div><div class="">women of an unadorned god—</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">deep in the heavy black fabric</div><div class="">of their coats and dresses like</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">a stench. black a mark of</div><div class="">pride they wore as if branded,</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">never dreaming they could</div><div class="">take it off. envy anticipated</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">their advent. glittered at them,</div><div class="">settling in, from the knife</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">blades of the massachusetts.</div><div class="">seeped like low-pitched</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">humming from the fur</div><div class="">lining the natives’ warm</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">blankets. but desire docked</div><div class="">in 1638. in from the harbor</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">flocked a people whose eyes</div><div class="">sparked like stars, even near</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">death. whose hair promised</div><div class="">a mixture of cotton and river</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">water and vines, a texture</div><div class="">the fingers ached for. who</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">wholly inhabited a skin the</div><div class="">midnight color of grace</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">that clarified the hue of the</div><div class="">pilgrims’ woolen weeds. fear</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">and envy claimed pride of place,</div><div class="">put desire’s cargo to good use.</div><div class=""> </div><div class=""> </div><div class="">iii. march 1770</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">that night, crispus attucks</div><div class="">dreamed. how he’d attacked</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">his would-be master and fled</div><div class="">in wild-eyed search of self-</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">determination. discarded</div><div class="">virginia on the run and ran</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">out of breath in salt-scented</div><div class="">boston. found there, if not</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">freedom, fearlessness. a belief</div><div class="">in himself that rocked things</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">with the uncontrolled power</div><div class="">of the muscular atlantic, power</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">to cradle, to capsize. awoke</div><div class="">angry again at the planter</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">who’d taken him for a mule</div><div class="">or a machine. had shouldered</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">a chip the size of concord</div><div class="">by the time the redcoat dared</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">to dare him. died wishing he’d</div><div class="">amassed such revolutionary</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">ire in virginia. died dreaming</div><div class="">great britain was the enemy.</div><div class=""> </div><div class=""> </div><div class="">iv. july 4th: last</div><div class=""> but not least</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">17-, 18-, 19-76 and still</div><div class="">this celebration’s shamed</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">with gunpowder and words</div><div class="">that lie like martyrs in cold</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">blood. africa’s descendents,</div><div class="">planting here year after year</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">the seeds of labor, sweating</div><div class="">bullets in this nation’s warts,</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">have harvested the rope,</div><div class="">the rape, the ghetto, the cell,</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">the fire, the flood, and the</div><div class="">blame for you-name-it. so</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">today black folks barbeque</div><div class="">ribs and smother the echoes</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">of billie’s strange song in</div><div class="">sauces. drink gin. gladly</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">holiday to heckle speeches</div><div class="">on tv. pretend to parade.</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">turn out in droves for distant</div><div class="">detonations, chaos, controlled</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">as always, but directed</div><div class="">away from us tonight. stare</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">into the mirror of the sky</div><div class="">at our growing reflection,</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">boggled by how america</div><div class="">gawks at the passing pinpoints</div><div class=""> </div><div class="">of flame, but overlooks the vast,</div><div class="">ebony palm giving them shape</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Evie Shockley</div><div class=""><br class=""></div></div></body></html>