Leaving Xaia

D. Nurkse

LEAVING XAIA

A hand came from behind
and took me by the throat,
a van door opened,
I was taken to a tiny house
down a path flanked with conch shells
a block from the barracks.
There I was stripped
and the hood put over me.
As I stood facing the wall
palms pressing concrete
I began to dream of you
so intently, as if my mind
had created you
and could sustain you,
as if your face
were all that could last,
almost my last obstacle:
then the voice commanded
dress, I dressed in silence,
I was ushered out,
I heard the whine of props,
my sight was returned,
so were my papers,
a soldier escorted me
up the boarding ramp.
I took my place
among the other tourists;
in the porthole the night roads
dipped and faded,
either to open sea
or to a city without light.