Reservation

by Kelle Grace Gaddis

Reservation of mud,
cattails and mosquito swamps
lost territory, lost people
and booze…
It’s not sleep,
when you can’t wake up.
Copper brown eyes
like pennies in the mud;
lost to give luck
to the rich.
Red, yellow and turquoise trinkets
miniature totem poles;
tourists watch poverty dance,
in costume,
to a foreign beat.
The Star Spangled Banner or
I pledge allegiance to. . .
minds going damp,
wet wool and
smoldering fires.
spirits turned to shadows
behind missing trees.

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