We live in the side compartments
of a suitcase on the way

that exchanges our flesh and blood
for pepper and cinnamon

sometimes also sleeping pods, but
only the captain knows about that

     The ship has a big belly
     it is a hungry waterwolf

     and we, in this realm of the dead
     hope to be saved

     spit out on land
     like Jonah by the whale

We do our job, for the shipping line
fixed costs of wages and compensations

often paid to the parents
who lost us to the sea

and to the widows
who could not count on us