Contents ( 37)
- POSTCOLONIAL LOVE POEM
- POSTCOLONIAL LOVE POEM
- Contents
- Postcolonial Love Poem
- Blood-Light
- These Hands, If Not Gods
- Catching Copper
- From the Desire Field
- Manhattan Is a Lenape Word
- American Arithmetic
- They Don’t Love You Like I Love You
- Skin-Light
- Run’n’Gun
- Asterion’s Lament
- Like Church
- Wolf OR-7
- Ink-Light
- The Mustangs
- Ode to the Beloved’s Hips
- Top Ten Reasons Why Indians Are Good at Basketball
- That Which Cannot Be Stilled
- The First Water Is the Body
- I, Minotaur
- It Was the Animals
- How the Milky Way Was Made
- exhibits from The American Water Museum
- Isn’t the Air Also a Body, Moving?
- Cranes, Mafiosos, and a Polaroid Camera
- The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn
- Waist and Sway
- If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert
- Snake-Light
- My Brother, My Wound
- Grief Work
- Notes
- Acknowledgments
- Dedication
One of its possibilities was to hold a river within it.

A river is a body of water. It has a foot, an elbow, a mouth. It runs. It lies in a bed. It can make you good. It has a head. It remembers everything.

If I was created to hold the Colorado River, to carry its rushing inside me, if the very shape of my throat, of my thighs is for wetness, how can I say who I am if the river is gone?
What does ‘Aha Makav mean if the river is emptied to the skeleton of its fish and the miniature sand dunes of its dry silten beds?
If the river is a ghost, am I?
Unsoothable thirst is one type of haunting.

A phrase popular or more known to non-Natives during the Standing Rock encampment was, Water is the first medicine. It is true.
Where I come from we cleanse ourselves in the river. I mean: The water makes us strong and able to move forward into what is set before us to do with good energy.
We cannot live good, we cannot live at all, without water.
If we poison and use up our water, how will we clean our wounds and our wrongs? How will we wash away what we must leave behind us? How will we make ourselves new?

To thirst and to drink is how one knows they are alive and grateful.
To thirst and then not drink is…

If your builder could place a small red bird in your chest to beat as your heart, is it so hard for you to picture the blue river hurtling inside the slow muscled curves of my long body? Is it too difficult to believe it is as sacred as a breath or a star or a sidewinder or your own mother or your beloveds?
If I could convince you, would our brown bodies and our blue rivers be more loved and less ruined?
The Whanganui River in New Zealand now has the same legal rights of a human being. In India, the Ganges and Yamuna Rivers now have the same legal status of a human being. Slovenia’s constitution now declares access to clean drinking water to be a national human right. While in the United States, we are teargassing and rubber-bulleting and kenneling Natives trying to protect their water from pollution and contamination at Standing Rock in North Dakota. We have yet to discover what the effects of lead-contaminated water will be on the children of Flint, Michigan, who have been drinking it for years.

America is a land of bad math and science. The Right believes Rapture will save them from the violence they are delivering upon the earth and water; the Left believes technology, the same technology wrecking the earth and water, will save them from the wreckage or help them build a new world on Mars.