I change hands - K Darch

Both masters and slaves
push their tools
in the sand of me
where love arrives
and dies so easily
I spend myself on it
like old ghana cedis
like a pesewa to a pom
at the plantain seller
turns sister Kesewa
on a dime
when he tells her
he tells her
the bottom has dropped out
of your only currency
then sits back and enjoys
his peace and quiet
and coffee

I lay here long enough
I stay still long enough
for him to rearrange the lay of my land
before I change hands

both scholars and fools
have tossed
the pennies of my affection
into deep and shallow pools
of the moment’s discretion
they’ve been won and held
and squandered and spent
on both pacifist’s and soldier's
mild amusement
levying wound-new skin against his
rusty metal restraint
"hey, no constraints" he says
so I shed clothes like soft
and heavy petals

in another shower
my hard earned beauty
for his inherited power
I've been staked out, mined,
melted down, embossed
found and just as quickly lost
before I change hands

both sadness and joy
work their hands over
another day
in another land rover
with john dave I-ti
yankee, kiwi
love is a starvation economy
whether or not the deal is fair
whether driven by desire or dare
or duty
the bottom has dropped out
of this small waist and beauty
first blonde hair for pounds
then south african rands
still you engrave your queen on me
and I change hands.
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