we are in an ark
not a passport in hand
tinted windows and air the taste of spit
and body oils the pregnant woman
squeezes her abdomen the child will not die
in the middle of a journey too weak to jump
into the sharks no emissary in sight we want to sing
can barely clap a groan rises from our ribs broken
we lick the sweat from each other’s sweat the mother chews
on her placenta she wants to share but we allow her greed
we laugh the wind responds
we pray into our mouths only the breath in God in us
makes music of our meditations we mark the distance
from our mother’s nipples with these fragile fingernails
what we see in each other’s spirits is fear I must have
two left the Liverpool rocks roll like they fell from an archangel’s
vineyard what praise can we give with bound hands
they still out talk with a reason of existence
in pairs they drag us out like animals
Copyright © 2022 by Afua Ansong. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 13, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.