In a Scattergood world

                              i.m. Robert Treuer

Back East, in Rhode Island, the big snow
coming.  Thinking of William
Blackstone, hermit-pilgrim – the
one who went to live with Miantonomi

& the other red-men.  To the House
of 4 Pines – under
cartouche of Little Bear,
North Star.  Out of Nazi Austria

sped a peregrine, by grace of God
& pity of strange braves
(Scattergood saviors,
anonymous donors... meek just good).

To a tree farm he fostered (in remote
forest).  Led into circle
of silent First People,
tending ashes (sitting shiva).  Little

prow of acacia, rocking near Itasca-
Nile... your upside-down
fire-drill will drown its
candle in stony Minnehaha.

Sigh, winging out into grey sound
(b-flat at midnight).
The musicologist
from Florence mutters back to ground

just so – back to the pigeon-clay
of primordial, steadfast
Bee (until the last
dragon of Sheol fades away).


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