What it was like, for me,
from my perspective,
didn’t survive; wasn’t deemed
worthy of documentation.

My vagina was turned
into a conduit for colonialism.

Colonialism went in
and when it came out,
I was pretty much erased.
Any remnant of remembrance
was converted to Christianity
and I ended up dying

so far from my home
so far from the people
who, despite letting me languish
a whole year and then some,
still would not have slept
on my grave.

This is their perimeter of peace.
This is why it’s personal
and why I, Pocahontas,
permute my personality
for the poet.

The poor Indians would have had less
reason to complain
that the English took away their land
if they had received it
by way of portion
with their daughters.

A sprightly lover is the most prevailing missionary.

If a Moor may be washed white
in three generations
surely an Indian
might have been blanched
in two.

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Cento sourced from The Westover Manuscripts