I’ve heard
Jim Crow is still dancing
to amuse the Whites.
He’s the woman in Thailand,
hands in ice water
16 hours a day,
peeling shrimp.
At Walmart,
$10 a platter.
He’s the man in Bangladesh,
working the textile machine
with a thousand others
in an ill-constructed facility
built for half that many.
The midnight-blue polo shirt by Joe Fresh is a steal;
$16 at Loblaws.
He’s the child in the underground tunnels
of Congo’s mining industry
– no protective gear –
carrying rocks and washing the cobalt ores
for less than $2 a day
to power lithium-ion batteries in electric cars, laptops, and
smartphones.
I look at my old BlackBerry.
A touch-screen would be nice, and
iPhone 8 is coming this fall.
Black History Month is over.
Back to work.
(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)
