Tuesday, November 13, 2007

In the Blood


Bear Butte, South Dakota

Tassels hung on leather strips, tied with buttons to breast. Soft tanned hide over shoulder and back. Red ties at sleeves. Cone beads ringing. Soot-ink drawings on flaps: buffalo, chased by horses running. Many Kills wore it once: he was warrior. Once we too. Abalone from a sea of water, crossing a sea of grass to get here, and be counted. How many winter counts between the old ones running, and these hung lights. Running at the Knee. Yellow Hair talked fair, but lied. We killed him near the river. Stones there, now, amongst the trees. Crow keep their horse-herds next to that land. Grass dry and brown all winter. Once we were warriors, and leaders of our people. Dark brown at the collar, where Blue Shirt was stuck with a spear, and bled onto the grass.

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