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Cartography                     composed on MLK and Inauguration Day

we map our days

on bent backs in cotton fields

on our verdant vineyards’ caretakers

our deli’s clean dishes depend on mojados

our apples are touched by invisible Jamaican hands

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we map our days on crops of wheezing lungs

we turn away from wrinkled brown hands

we map our towns with dividing lines

we slide our eyes away from men on the corner

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we map our waking hours

with condemnations and complaints

at night we dream of shadows

we can’t escape the truth of maps

the lines etched deep in America’s skin