29. the darkey brings up the rear and
bears the well-riddled target
I will disappear
vanish as if I never existed
as ethereal as an invisible man
no one will know my linage –
whether I am from a crib
or a scion of the big house –
though many will speculate
and most will be wrong
if sometime in the future
you find me sunk in the bayou
chained like Emmett Till
for some imagined slight
to the Bosses’ boys
seek my revenge
those who concealed me so
will be old and frail
toothless and without power
easy- pickings for justice delayed
no matter what is named for their family
Song of
Myself #30 – Beadwork
30. The
squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemmed cloth is offering moccasins and beadbags for sale,
The tourists rush by
in their
flip-flops,
loafers,
Wal-Mart
sandals
Few pay
attention
to what I
have for salel -
uncaring or
all too aware
the same
beaded leather bags
can be
bought at Ye Old Curiosity Shop
for far
less than my prices
and you
might get a free key-chain
as a bonus
The guy
with the table by Ivar’s
takes in
more than I peddling
T’s with
fake Salish totems
though once
in a while
someone
drops a few coins
in one of
my moccasins
Time for me
to pack up
and catch
the bus to the transfer station.
I either
need to move south
or get my
goods from China –
Here, who
would know the difference?
There will
be time enough left in the day
to finish
the pine-needle basket
for my
tênês kluchmên*
to give to
hers
There will
time be enough
to honor
the old ways
and
remember when the rivers
ran red
with Sockeye
*Chinook
jargon for daughter or girl.