(To E. A. Poe)

To E. A. Poe

Egypt had cheated us,

for Egypt took

through guile and craft

our treasure and our hope,

Egypt had maimed us,

offered dream for life,

an opiate for a kiss,

and death for both.

White poison flower we loved

and the black spike

of an ungarnered bush—

(a spice—or without taste—

we wondered—then we asked

others to take and sip

and watched their death)

Egypt we loved, though hate

should have withheld our touch.

Egypt had given us knowledge,

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