Carolyn Krieg   © 2013 All Rights Reserved

Small Moons

There are two feathers upright and tied
into grandmother Small Moon’s hair. She waves
her owl fan at the powwow drum, drops
a couple dollars on the hide,
one for each syllable
in the sun’s name.

The drum pounds out the heartbeat of her cancer.
It’s then she’s fancy shawl dancing,
a young woman kicking
her heels up in front of her,
she calls out
in short
harsh bursts

and trills louder then the young men
with beautiful falsetto voices
singing our eagle mothers into the arbor.

Her voice, it’s uranium powder–
thin as bone,
it’s far too many headstones–
coughing up ants
starving in the pantry

but for a moment she’s up in the air, dancing
those feathers now bobbing,
knocking down radio transmissions
and pine cones, she’s waking up bears,
she’s conjuring 747s into the arbor. When the song ends,

she leaves,

leaves the whole mess there:
cigarette butts and dog fur outside a grocery store,

and burns her fingers,

leaves, and cuts her hair
so short she can’t hear it in the wind, so short it leaves

her neck cold in the summer.


Michaelsun Stonesweat Knapp
Copyright © 2013  

Michaelsun Stonesweat Knapp is a college graduate, Native American and southern Californian, an award winning author and poet, and has published in magazines such as Cal State San Bernardino’s Ghost Town, DMQ Review, and in Ball State’s the Broken Plate. He’s not bad on the eyes, either, Ladies.

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