(for Steve Catlin, my brother, who left a copy of this at her grave in Kahnawake, Quebec.)
(1): “flight” Dear umbrous squat Kateri crawls like rain, eyes squirmed, scaly comb at her neck -to gall one for very holiness! Wildly galled, indeed for to believe, do and eat came (for her) rather hurriedly, with no time for a true locust love- just some waters & beyond __________
(2): “sickness”
She danced, at first, shucking off braids and feverish rings, with no love unto death Every outstretched palm she raised, fleshed tight like one, was a green-winged moon, the tide as knife-cut and a lake of spume and reed, in fact, a clutch of water reeds-- every hillock loosed from her shawl! Then eyes like screech owns returned to her lone sickly face, now the repose of marshes-- now the fleeing ghost of a young girl's fever to be felt like a wild-sweet clammy scent
(2013-14)