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114 Post-Barbarian And now what shall become of us without any barbarians? Those people were some kind of solution. —Constantine P. Cavafy, “Waiting for the Barbarians” (1904) Such things as dazzled me, emerald brilliance, glitter of costly canes wonderfully carved with silver and gold—mean nothing now I’ve left the gates. Left off my threats and treating, ceased my distant drums and leaping out at civil folk in dark barrens where my young sleep piled like squirrels or dogs or any creature you chose to call us. Now what? Now who? You draw a zone that attracts, holds terror in its grasp, sticks flies in a paper trap. Those bodies glitter, too, void, wrapped with yours, litter the sand with metal husks and insect noise. We see it on your televised maps and understand fear of them keeps the vote in hand, solves all economic woes, turns the key to homelessness, best-guesses global warming, antidotes AIDS, fixes inside fights, unravels the mystery of misogyny, tells the world: it’s them-not-me. So, we know what has become of you, who needed us, your kind of solution. But what was it we once solved? What was the quandary? Who asked the question? ...

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