“the mesas broke on the starry sky. / A pall covered every color of their gorgeous glory at noon.”

[larryhammer]

For Poetry Monday:

Sweet Grass, Carrie House

One morning I, Navajo, wake up in Tiwa country
Friend from Taos Pueblo tells me they just killed a buffalo
Ten people are standing around, looking at each other
I watch the tractor’s rear wheels come up and off the ground
The operator soon notices and lowers the buffalo
A man cuts the buffalo open
Everyone looks around at each other
Someone asks, “Who here can butcher?”
Someone says, “She can, she’s a Navajo!”
I say, “Is this why he drove me up here?”
I ask for a wheelbarrow and a galvanized pail is placed down
I say, “This is for Minnie Mouse, where is a wheelbarrow or two?”
A wheelbarrow and several big buckets arrive
Two men open the cavity and I put my head and arms in
Steam from the inside smells of sweet grass
        I close my eyes and am overwhelmed by the sensation of being in a mother’s womb
I carefully pull everything out and onto the wheelbarrow and buckets
Everything is huge; the heart, the kidneys, the book, the liver....
My pocket knife is the sharpest knife in the group
One evening I, Navajo, eat buffalo in Tiwa country


House is a contemporary Diné (Navajo) filmmaker and poet. (hat tip)

---L.

Subject quote from The Horse Thief, William Rose Benét.