Branks
Remember all the times
your voice was silenced
when you were belittled
bullied
ignored
put down
until you were left
tongue tied,
stuck to the roof of your dry mouth.
Has the cat got your tongue?
Remember all the times
you were told to pipe down,
that you should be
seen and not heard
that it was unbecoming
to be of rebellious spirit
that to question, to challenge
the hierarchies of power
was to be branded a scold
troublesome woman.
The branks snapped
around your head.
The cold iron
clamped around your face
muzzled like a dog
so the spit would drip
down your chin
through small bore holes
and your jaw ached
from the unnatural
position of metal against
soft cheek flesh
unable to speak
This is what men did to women
they accused of witch craft
or of idle gossip.
This is what men did to other men,
who they bought at the slave markets
along the Gold Coast
the troublesome ones,
the ones who resisted
to be chained below decks
for weeks on rough sea
to be sold again
to plant and harvest
sugar that sweetened the tea
and cakes of ladies who
lunched and men who hunted.
Spit into your wound,
lick it better
now that your tongue
is unfettered.
Salt tastes sharp on
humiliated skin.
Flash of green in your eye,
catches the tears of resistance.
©SCM 2020