byLuci Tapahonso
- Sometimes
I don't even care to see her
- her bushy hair
was so nice the night before
those bleary eyes almost closed
smeared mascara shiny with waiting tears
- (she can turn them on anytime
you know those tears just wait
like that brimming
it doesn't work on me, I told her once
don't cry to get my sympathy.)- her lips bloated
from talking and crying
nights of beer beer beer
and crazy conway twitty
- moaning and groaning
play guitar play
(I hate it,)- her face is puffy
reddened from booze
long unknown nights
and who knows what else.- Sometimes I avoid her completely.
- She never learned to dance western
but she thinks so
moving clumsily at powwow club
almost falling with each turn
navajo cowboys don't dance
with the likes of her.- once as a child
I came across a small mangled lamb
But her
- blood smeared in the soft young wool
I cried then
closing its moist dark eyes
I asked god through gritted teeth
why? why?
it was so good god
warm and happy- I picked it up
crying out loud
- for its helplessness
its stupidity
not knowing enough
to stay off the road.
she knows better
she's not helpless
- and I stopped crying for stupidity long ago
so it's better if she avoids me too.
From Seasonal Woman by Luci Tapahonso, Tooth of Time Books.
© 1982 Luci Tapahonso