By Sarah Lim
By Sarah Lim

By Amélie Frank

Blackwood put that horror of Canada into me,
he wrote how an Indian guide could taste the air
and smell the Algonquin demon lurking there,
a thing so foul it frightened the Ojibwa and the Cree.

Northern solitude and the panic of the wild:
Blackwood put that horror of Canada into me;
he loosed a psychosis nesting in the maple trees
and hungry practices the First Nations reviled.

As he sent a hapless French-Canadian chasseur
on a honeymoon flight “of . . . fiery speed”
Blackwood put that horror of Canada into me,
depravity over matter: what’s evil moves faster!

Ethonographers dub cannibals a Great White Greed
Lesson learned: if I see the Indian sniff, now, I run
Certain things I can’t countenance even under the sun
Blackwood put that horror of Canada into me.

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