holding you this morning

you cried on my shoulder
and our hearts beat at each other
like prisoners in a slave ship
down in the hold
in tiny cramped quarters
strong people from different tribes
with different languages
triyng to synchronize their words
to learn each others tongue
in the darkness
and the tears
planning the rebellion
for the next time
they would be brought up
on deck
for exercise
the next time
they would be dancing.