Immigration
checks at the borders of the new year?
I was
prepared for this. Most of myself, in barrels and crates
And
large shapeless bundles tied with coarse twine,
Had
been smuggled across and stored as opportunity offered.
What
was left was shadowy and benign; the guards
Asked
for my blessing and gave me a few coins.
Some
boxes of memories were lost; this always happens.
Other
boxes I retrieved turned out not to be mine
So I
now miss several people I’ve never met. My name
Lacks
a few letters, but remains recognizable.
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