Thursday, July 3, 2008

June Second

Along the banks of the Little Big Horn,
the earth heaves up the bones of horses and bullets.
I hear the crickets as the Warrior tells the tale,
of The Sister Saves Her Brother Battle.
She speaks and her hands dance in the flawless sun of June.
The Sweet Grass sings to me,
through the smoke battles' memory.
And the dead sleep facing the Montana mountains
Lost in final glory.