A Haida Dancer

The Haida people live where the land
wants to end but can’t quite.

Overturned by muscle
I went there seeking new ways to see.

I found some of their daily wealth–
endless butter clams in the tide’s outstretched arms.

On a linen nightstand for hungry daydreams
I saw a longhouse fire in old Haida eyes peering back at me

with a stare that saw beyond the horizon
as an eagle dancer from a high-prowed war canoe.

One response to “A Haida Dancer

  1. Another fine poem, with characteristic power and surprise. The land wanting to end but can’t, the warrior culture lost but remaining as images with other uses.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s