— for bell hooks

They do not talk
amongst themselves
when we are not looking at them.

When they talk,
it is never about
who owns them now.

We hear them reminding us
of the past.  We listen as much
for our own voices in response

as to what they say.  Sometimes
we drown them out with loud shame
at their shabby appearance. Sometimes

we make them too heavy to carry
from this place to the next.  When they
remain behind, we call the place where they stay

“home.”  We call the place
to which we carry the others
“upward mobility.”

Occasionally, we gather
to speak of them, to recall
where we came from.  We don’t listen

to what they tell us then,
preferring our own stories.
Eventually they become mute

and are sold to someone, or tossed
aside. We forget what we’ve been told,
and slip into our own silence.