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Cottonfields
by Jessica Dawson

I sit here in my cotton jeans thinking about him
Him who lived long ago, with much darker skin
I feel the cotton against my limbs
I feel the cotton and think about him,
He laboured for the ladies fine
And had no savory meats, nor glass of wine
United by suffering, united by grace
We both had one man taking our place

Did she feel guilty in her array so splendid
With a morsel of food, has she ever befriended
When she looked out her window, her face to fan
Was he to her a “boy”, an animal, or a man
Did she give thought in church to this man
Who wasn't permitted there, as she stand
As she sang her hymns, was she damned
Did she give any thought, thought to this man

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