They named me after an island because
I can only be reached by boat.
Those who tried to come by road
or rail turned back, and those
who tried to come on foot
have long since drowned.
It is impossible to fly
in this foul air, so forget
the broomstick and the wings
of the dove. Sorry,
I do not have a lighthouse
or buoys, and if you run aground
there is no-one here to haul your cargo
up the shore. There is no-one here
who knows mouth-to-mouth.
Best not to think of this place
as a sanctuary (there is no comfort here)
but as the promise
of oblivion. That, I can offer.
That, too, is worth the crossing.
