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FURTHER ARRIVALS
After we had crossed the long illness
that was the ocean, we sailed up-river
On the first island
the immigrants threw off their clothes
and danced like sandflies
We left behind one by one
the cities rotting with
cholera
,
one by one our civilized
distinctions
and entered a large darkness.
It was our own
ignorance we entered.
I have not come out yet
My brain gropes nervous
tentacles in the night, sends out
fears hairy as bears,
demands lamps; or waiting
for my shadowy husband, hears
malice in the trees' whispers.
I need wolf's eyes to see
the truth.
I refuse to look in a mirror.
Whether the wilderness is
real or not
depends on who lives there.