Wednesday, December 3, 2008



old crow of a woman in bonnet,
sifting through the dump
salvaging those parts of the world
neither useless or useful

she would be hours in the sweatlodge
come out naked and brilliant in the sun
steam rising off her body in winter
like a slow explosion of horses

she braided my sister's hair
with hands that smelled deep roots
buried in the earth
she told me the old stories

how time never mattered
when she died
they gave me her clock.

Sherman Alexie.......from The Business of Fancydancing

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