Far from this sullen land lie my
beginnings;
hidden;
and those who brought me here
blew, too, the bitter clouds
over my head;
I wrestled in the sweltering dark
with my brothers,
eyes blind to the beauty of the
morning, of the light.
I cannot bear the light;
green envy mantles me, and poison
weights my dying hands.
Yet all men love me;
I dress impeccably for dinner in
my many suits,
doffing my jacket always in the
presence of the duchess.
(November,
1986)
