In the Former Colony, Various Hauntings

The mansions, their bougainvillea-drenched fences;
their reflecting lagoons through which gold bodies

darted. Lilies that ate from the gardeners' hands.
Portraits of generals and their wives, gold-braided.

High-ceilinged rooms and marble staircases, 
long tables gathered from the hearts of pine.

These aren't the only things that ignite revolutions. 
Ghosts whisper from abandoned cabins of how they

were reaped in rows like corn and sugar from their
own land. History's whip marks bent backs: a sting 

pitched higher for the landing. Even the animals 
have ghosts: crow-choked rooster, flayed horse, slit-

throated pig. At the end of every corridor, a bell-pull. The dead sexton rings for a hanging, for burial, for war.

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