Adrienne Rich
WAKING IN THE DARK
1.
The thing that arrests me is
2.
how we are composed of molecules
(he showed me the figure in the paving-stones)
arranged without our knowledge and consent
like the wirephoto composed
of millions of dots
in which the man from Bangia Desh
walks starving
on the front page
knowing nothing about it
which is his presence for the world
We were standing in line outside of something
two by two, or alone in pairs, or simply alone,
looking into windows full of scissors,
windows full of knives. The street was closing,
the city was closing, would we be the lucky ones
to make it? They were showing
in a glass case, the Man Without .-\. Country.
We held up our passports in his face, we wept for him.
