The sacrifice got up off the altar.BECOME AN ARCHAEOLOGIST OF YOUR LUNGS.            Windrushis the name of a shipnot of a generation            Windrushis the name of a shipnot of any situation            Windrushis the witchcraft name of a shipwaterlining us into uncharted, obligatory, and perpetual migrationThe sacrifice got up off the altar.BECOME AN ARCHAEOLOGIST OF YOUR LUNGS.The naming of ships is a terrible thing,The Terrible Mother tell me.I came in a ship called                Threat VectorI came in a ship called                Dust to DustWho came in a ship called                Willing AmbassadorWho came in a ship called                Evidence of FundsDid I dance with you on the blue carpet?Was your ship called the Providence?The Invitation? Was your ship called Guerilla Diplomacy?Go back where you came from, citizens,Says Terrible Motherland,whether that means overseasor going back under the sea,citizens, life forms.Listen to the lady, she is a consultant anonymizer,A high-mobility native of Fortress Trolley.We are phantasmagorically, primarily, and politicallylightless and all-bearing creaturesput down, not undrowned, gone beyondbeyond drownedThe sacrifice got up off the altar.BECOME AN ARCHAEOLOGIST OF YOUR LUNGS.A woman is sweeping the sea.In the father’s words, in Kamau’s words,a woman is sweeping the sea.They still say in Englisha ship is a ‘she’?Who say so? The ship isa thing of itnesswitness and creatorfury of a wakeraking over of witnessThe island scholar is sweeping the carpetin her London digssweeping the sea-grey, the pea-souper carpetin no-blacks no-Irish no-dogs London’s aspirational digsthat carpet had etiquette, it demanded her to accept itin its misty itness, as grey, grey like ethical practice, dove-or-pigeon grey.Could the island scholartrust loose-talking fibreafter she study the French liberatorCharles de GaulleWho dismissed our archipelagoas specks of dust?She sweeps and a pattern emergesstabilizing as many coloursstabilizing as a miraclea many-coloured pattern wanting to dance beside her feetafter she was forced to breathe in dustsettling and unsettlingthe miracle of many coloursThe sacrifice got up off the altar.BECOME AN ARCHAEOLOGIST OF YOUR LUNGS.