A sail brittle in the choppy wind
Facing nor-nor-east as the sun breaks the horizon
and light scapes the basking seas
Another ship closer to the shore
rowers in the hold know no warmth
except that generated from muscle friction
absorbing energy from the cruel air
The sails against the open seas
bloom with captured air and clip the wind
The rudder cuts easy to starboard and then tacking
a charge down stream lifting the hull in the turn
The slave ship’s captain speaks to the trader
Ov’r horizon it sails bearing cannons
you can see through my scope if you look
And the trader says to to the captain
you better get to land to protect my cargo
if you want to be paid
The sails encroaching now the guns raised and ready
the ship circles around the trader ever closer
a horn warns of impending doom
the captains make eye contact and they know
both ships stop and a dinghy arrives
The trader is taken and clapped in irons
The Master At Arms escorted to the hold
“You are freed and now own this craft!”
Wide open eyes as the chains are removed
“Another one captured” said the captain
“it was easy not to give the game away” said the other