Southwest Africa
We contemplate, Fräulein, a land so dry
This water in itself is Lorelei,
And put your comb to whatsoever use,
It is the tank and windmill that seduce.
Divided skirt, bush jacket, boots. Though sex
Expire in local color, yet will heks
Be Hexe still; be challenge, be response,
Of myth to drouth, of song to Afrikaans.
Undress and with that water merge. Resist,
And I am nakedly a Narzissist.
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