One of the poems Toi read was this piece about the El Mina slave fortress, which I had visited on my trip to Ghana:
The castle, always on an
outcrop of indifference;
the discards on the way.
Where our mothers were held, we walk now
as tourists, looking for cokes, film, the bathroom.
A few steps beyond the brutalization, we
stand in the sun:
This area for tourists only.
Our very presence an ironic
point of interest to our guide.
[This is the "gate of no return" at El Mina.]