Caliban Theory

^{—after Beenie Man and Derek Walcott}

who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the cramped quarters
            of any vessel voyaging the sea
            with contraband and trafficked cargo
who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the rum barrel hollowed out
            and beaten into percussion
who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m a pidgin picking its way
            into a creole—any savage tongue
            consumed again and again
            until it can be repeated
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the plátano deep frying sweet
            in oil or i’m the plátano fry-smash-
            fried into tostones
who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the hibiscus steamed
            with ginger and sugar
            and allspice and clove
who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m a field song morphing
            out each new generation’s lips
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the pilón smashing
            plátano and garlic and chicarrón
            into mofongo or i’m the pilón
            grinding allspice and clove
            and fennel and cinnamon into a jerk
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m this tripped-up tongue
            tryna wind its way through
            english, spanish, and patois
            smashed and ground-up together
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m sugarcane fields burnt or i’m
            the the scotch bonnet burn
            in the curry chicken or
            i’m the ron añejo burning
            its way down the throat
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m a poco man jam
            morphing into a dembow
who am i? 
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m the poems chanted
            over and over on the slave ship
            until they all mishmash smashed
            into a whole new song
who am i?                   who am i?                   who am i?
            either i’m nobody or
            i’m all of the nations
            or i am no nation or i’m a
            singular, ephemeral nation—
            the one i sing into being with this
            savage tongue, the one that disappears
            as soon as the sound stops shaking
            in the ocean salt air