matrix

by KARLENE HARVEY

And she looks at a photograph
of a girl dressed like communion
snug waists and crinoline that beckon
second takes and a snap shot glimpse
of where it all began: The grease slick
assumptions and well-lit life’s
copyrighted soda pops and bright
bibles that boast a time of well fed
entitlement. Of fat-faced arguments
and half eaten souls that weighed
down with sin, glass beads and skins.

“Don’t you joke about it,” sneers a photo
of my mother before she lights a secret
cigarette in the late-night john.
Flushing dignity with two good shoes
Twisted overtly to the left; Well,
She’s got her eyes on a faux fur
coat (seven bucks) at the
local Saan’s. Past rez school windows
lightly barred and curfewed.

every old chronicle that sickly
slapped children raw with her
pointy heels clear off the ground
eyes shining excitement
and a habit that best be dealt with.

Crosses that tick-tock
across clavicles, our life-long confessions
and a repent that tugs just far from reach
“A little more godliness”
One lady ponders as she tries
To correct behavior like posture

Hang me by my wrists from the laughter
Make the children pull me up
Over wooden beams that criss cross
Strength bearing down our heads
Whispering atop our necks at night,
And pulling at thighs.

There is nothing to want up there
In air and clouds where owls take the dead.
so gladly disappear
fade quietly into the earth and
become all the air to breathe
Every choking last breath and I’ll be there.
I’ll see your strained eyes;
And say:
“All the good and evil exists right here.
Here with you.”