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Rumors Of Our Demise

Poems By Native American Writers

Holy The Body

I’ve thought so little of you that now / you seek your revenge in the grinding / of kneecaps, the tightening of hamstrings, / loss of elasticity, the skin. So long neglected, / you weren’t even an afterthought.

Fear And Love

I wish I could make the argument that a river / and a sunset plus a calm disregard of the ego / are enough.

Kiss

When Lynne saw the lizard floating / in her mother-in-law’s swimming pool, / she jumped in.

Our Dad Got Old

Our dad got old. He moved in with his brother. We had all left home because we were supposed to figure out what we were good at and do it. He’d taught us that.

For My Friend Who Told Me Don’t Celebrate The Dead

how can I tell him that every day I see her / smiling in her coral blouse, her matching lipstick, and her sunglasses, / sitting alfresco at our favorite Milwaukee cafe

Sightings

Shortly after her death, Mother Teresa appeared / in a cinnamon bun in Nashville, Tennessee. / She looked serious, perturbed even, as though / this epiphany were an inconvenience.

Out Of Our Reach

I’m a new face in the therapy group. / My wife’s ultimatum drove us here tonight. / And when my turn in the circle comes / to say what I’m feeling right now, / my tears surprise even me.

Also Known As

If you are more close to the dying / than you would like to be, then it is time for the sky / to grow larger than the earth, than the sea even.

Accent

Fifty years ago my older brother brought home / the first tape recorder I’d ever seen, a little box / that pulled my voice out of the air and spun it back / transformed, whiny, stuffed-nose, singsong.