In dreams, Sky Woman comes and stands
and bares for me her skin of black
and shows with clenched and trembling hands
the fresh welts raised upon her back.
She built her flesh through violent toil
yet owns it not; her hands are bound.
Her blood still runs to stain the soil.
It cries from underneath the ground.
And robed in white, with cross and roar,
the man gives her no time to grieve;
demands she build yet more and more.
"I can't," says she. "I cannot breathe."
He weeps and sings "Land of the free"
while crushing her neck beneath his knee.
May 28, 2020