Muzzy, a rope support bridge. Rain blurring
in this hinterland mist. A thing air born,
apart. Tonight I am leaving. Leaving
for its other side. This is a well-worn
path; still, I’m lost. Muzzy, up by the rocks
on the east side of the harbor I asked
a pearl diver the way. Her long dreadlocks,
hanging down, gave her a death-head, face masked.
I have been following rain all day long.
A storm soothsayer. Rain led me out here.
Led me to a bridge I crossed over once,
mother. When Death picked me up in her strong
arms I knew a once nameless fear. A fear
named by seeing home off in the distance.