I see the right side on the left,
the left side, right.
I see the shapes of what has been
behind, transposed.
A camera floats above my head
as dreams submerge.
A shadow moves beyond my feet
in backward stride.
The mirror and the fog are one,
and I, enclosed.
What was the Eskimo
doing in the tropics?
What was the Hottentot
doing in the arctic?
Caught between the two,
I asked what choice was mine?
Having to freeze or burn,
I felt, was too extreme.
Yet heart elected south
and brain elected north