^{I own I am shock’d at the purchase of slaves,
And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves...
I pity them greatly, but I must be mum,
For how could we do without sugar and rum?
— William Cowper, from “Pity for Poor Africans”}

oh
peerless
smell of cane
cloud on triangular
horizon whip trilling a red
aria molasses the smelling hull
& chained bones the practical sharks
trailing hoping for new bodies overboard

(dark/
dark/pale/
dark/pale/dark/
dark/exchange/fresh/
exchange/flesh/exchange/
fresh/blood/blood/blood/blood/
dark/dark/pale/dark/pale/dark/exchange/
flesh/exchange/fresh/exchange/flesh/blood)

&
the sea
taste blessed rape
hollowed burn & brand
some girls mostly boys this holy
trinity of “godless dirty savages” island
patois rum down a throat lump in some tea
science of journey & the peerless smell of cane