“The black players of France are also black players for the entire black world.”
Too much rain over Moscow but a prime minister
kisses the champions on their foreheads.
His dark suit slick with water.
The champions are soaked as if they’ve
floated from the sea but they are jubilant.
So many Africans are floating in the sea.
Are drowning among plastic whitening coral.
These champions know of the drowning the desperation
that comes from besieged land those
who wish them besieged.
Not them not today but.
How canons blast gold foil squares
that stick to skin ground.
It is my last Saturday in Morocco.
We are praising victory.
How much gold are we worth?