My very dear Claire,
I already know so much about you, and yet I have never actually seen you. For six months now, I have been passing you, sensing you, hearing you, closing my eyes when I
...
[+]
The elk hides stories of bluepoint and veery.
It's Kokum's prize—calloused hands
weave cord; flesh begins to slide
side to side
knots are tied with tobacco on the mind.
The elk hides stories of blue bunch and badgers.
It's Kokum's crime—bloody hands
tighten guts; flesh begins to cry
side to side
knots are tied with cedar on the mind.
The elk hides stories of gumweed and rattlesnakes
It's Kokum's pride—gentle hands
sew and glide; flesh remains wise
side to side
knots are tied with sweetgrass on the mind.
It's Kokum's prize—calloused hands
weave cord; flesh begins to slide
side to side
knots are tied with tobacco on the mind.
The elk hides stories of blue bunch and badgers.
It's Kokum's crime—bloody hands
tighten guts; flesh begins to cry
side to side
knots are tied with cedar on the mind.
The elk hides stories of gumweed and rattlesnakes
It's Kokum's pride—gentle hands
sew and glide; flesh remains wise
side to side
knots are tied with sweetgrass on the mind.