By Joseph Bruchac
a century past
is like looking
at your own
until someone else
with a stranger's eye
looks close and says
Joseph Bruchac, "Prints" from Sing: Poetry from the Indigenous Americas. Copyright © 2011 by Joseph Bruchac. Reprinted by permission of Joseph Bruchac.
Source: Sing: Poetry form the Indigenous Americas (University of Arizona Press, 2011)
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Steel arches up
past the customs sheds,
the bridge to a place
thrust into Mohawk land.
A dull rainbow
the new school,
designed to fan
out like the tail
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dark feathers of the old way's pride
mixed in with blessed Kateri's
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I know this is a real thing, because
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I am a door of metaphor
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