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Indian Giver

Page 3

by John Smelcer


  So much for America being founded on religious principles

  Template for Treaties Between the United States of America and Indian Tribes

  {U.S. GPO Document 7342-1; 1868-Rev.}

  By the authority pursuant to US §100-10, an Act of Congress, this is a Treaty between the United States of America and the {name of Indian tribe goes here}, a legally binding instrument, duly signed, and witnessed by Authorized Signatories of the United States and the aforementioned tribe, hereinafter referred to as “Sucker.”

  In exchange for, and in consideration of, goods received {list of trinkets and trifles goes here}, the United States forthwith steals (hereafter referred to as “Purchases”) the following land {vague description of land goes here} ad valorem. Upon execution, Sucker agrees to forfeit all rights and claims to aforesaid Purchase in perpetuity and to indemnify and hold harmless the United States.

  This agreement, entered into with good faith and in consideration that Indians are unable to read the contents herein with its jargon and non sequiturs, is subject to amendment or termination without notice or restitution by the second-signing party, for which the first-signing party forfeits all rights or provisions for future redress, retribution, or adjudication in a U.S. Court of Law.

  IN WITNESS WHEREOF the Parties hereto have executed this Treaty on this ___ day of _______, anno domini 18___, in accordance to the privileges and God-given mandate of manifest destiny of these United States of America, quid pro quo, carpe diem, deus ex machina, caveat venditor, tempus fugit, mundus ex nihilo, magna cum laude, e pluribus unum, in excelsis deo, tu es perfututum.

  [Authorized Signatories of Indian Tribe goes here]

  [Authorized Signatories of United States of America goes here]

  Duke Sky Thunder Tries a Jedi Mind Trick on Non-Native America

  This isn’t the land you were looking for.

  Move along.

  If Charlie Brown Had Been Set on a Reservation

  Lucy would work for the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

  With a big leering grin she’d promise Charlie Brown

  that she wouldn’t break the treaty this time

  if only he’d sign on the bottom line.

  “Don’t you trust me, Charlie Brown?” she’d taunt.

  And wouldn’t you know that fool would fall for it every time.

  Indian Superheroes

  Chuck Norris and Billy Jack team up to fight injustice

  on every reservation. Wearing boot-cut blue jeans,

  faded denim jackets, and black hats with eagle feathers

  tucked in the beaded bands they:

  karate chop unemployment & poverty

  sucker punch alcoholism & Fetal Alcohol Syndrome

  side kick obesity & diabetes

  head butt depression & suicide

  knee groin lack of educational opportunity

  Judo flip substandard housing & medical care

  hammer fist disillusion

  and put hopelessness in a headlock.

  With a big grin Billy Jack says to bigotry,

  “I’m gonna put this foot against that side of your head,”

  while Chuck Norris waggles his little pinkie finger

  and domestic violence unclenches its angry fists

  and flees in fear.

  The Last Fancy Dancer

  Clarence Hoop Dancer cried red tears

  the night the last song man died.

  There will be no more songs

  around the everlasting fire,

  no more young men

  to leap and dance like flames.

  No more drums.

  No more dancers.

  He stood outside and cried

  beneath the stars, the stars,

  flowers of his country.

  The Day the Words Died

  On the day their language died

  the people gathered unspoken words

  in buckets and brown paper bags

  in suitcases and cardboard boxes

  tossed those ghosts of words

  onto a great funeral pyre

  and, one by one, flung themselves

  into the dreadful fire.

  What the Medicine Man Said

  You are sick. . . . Inside.

  Here, he said, touching my heart.

  Their world has destroyed your spirit,

  deprived you of meaning and pride,

  tells you that you must want the wrong things,

  things that only reinforce emptiness.

  You need powerful medicine—

  Indian medicine.

  Sit down.

  I will tell you a story.

  Transfiguration Sunday

  Easter Sunday, 1928. Father Slooko

  stands before the Eucharist,

  his face and hands raised to Heaven

  as he recites The Last Supper.

  “And after pouring wine into the cups of his disciples,

  Jesus said,

  Drink this, all of you, for this is the headwaters of my blood.

  Then, he took out a salmon from a basket, held it up,

  and said,

  Eat this, all of you, for this is my body, which is given up unto you.”

  After Mass, the congregation streams out the double doors,

  wades into the river, turns into a school of salmon,

  and swims out to sea.

  Indians are like salmon—at one time or another

  they all leave the village or reservation,

  only to come home when it’s time to die.

  The Ballad of Victor ComesAlong

  Jesus was giving a sermon on the mount

  when he noticed it was time for supper.

  He looked around and saw he had no food

  to feed the multitude.

  Just then, Victor ComesAlong passed by

  with a huge sack of fry bread slung over his shoulder.

  Victor gave his sack of bread to Jesus, who blessed him.

  From that day on everyone called it a miracle.

  Literary Criticism

  Catherine Has-Some-Books sat on a rock

  talking to Johnny Looks-Too-White about Shakespeare.

  “Hamlet must have been Indian,” she said,

  “because everyone was out to get him.”

  “Romeo must have been Indian,” he said,

  “because white folks never let their daughters marry Indians.”

  “Lear must have been Indian,” they nodded,

  “because he lost everything in the end.”

  They held each other as the sun abandoned the reservation,

  certain that Shakespeare must have been Indian.

  The Party Crashers

  after a poem by Glen Simpson

  Federal agents in black suits and black SUVs

  crashed the Indian powwow.

  The Man from the government said:

  You gotta have a permit from the state

  To assemble as Indians

  To dance as Indians

  To drum as Indians

  To sing as Indians

  To be Indians

  Politically Incorrect

  for Vincent Cache Smelcer (1978-2014)

  My uncles and cousins sitting around a campfire.

  A wolf howls on the dark mountain.

  We all get up and dance and sing around the fire.

  Huh ha! Hey! Hey! Huh ha!

  Afterwards, one of my cousins says,

  “Man, it’s great to be Native American!”

  My uncle slaps him upside the head

  and all us Indians laugh for a long time.

  Hymn Singer

  At grandmother’s funeral

  I watch my Indian father

  mouth words to “Amazing Grace”

  Ts’in aen ne’k’eltaeni

  Ts’in aen ne’k’eltaeni

  and I am a stranger

&nb
sp; dressed in something black.

  Indian Policy

  based on a true story

  Silas Carries-a-Dream wanted to go to college

  so he went to McDonalds™ to ask for a scholarship

  but they said they only gave money to

  African Americans, Asian Americans,

  Hispanic Americans, Anyone-else-but-you-Americans,

  because Indians are all rich from casinos and bingo.

  So Silas went home to his pick-up truck camper on blocks,

  sat at his rickety table beneath a cupboard of one dusty can,

  took stock of all his worldly possessions:

  his Buick hubcap plate and bent fork

  one thin red blanket

  the leaky roof and broken window

  old issues of Better Homes & Gardens

  and his B&W television set

  with its skeletal umbrella antennae

  which only picked up westerns

  when it didn’t rain.

  He looked around, ashamed at his great display of wealth.

  Indian Blues

  Thomas Two Fists

  whittled a guitar from a tree

  that had fallen during a storm

  and killed a shaman. He carved

  the tuning pegs from the bones

  of a white buffalo.

  For strings,

  he used the long gray hair of

  old Indian mothers who had lost

  their children and grandchildren

  to alcohol and drunk driving.

  For years,

  Two Fists travelled from

  reservation to reservation

  and powwow to powwow

  singing the blues.

  Wherever he went,

  Indians wrapped themselves in old blankets,

  dreamed of forgotten homes and wept

  dreamed of forgotten homes and wept.

  Reservation Blues

  All summer tourists pass

  our village on the buckled highway

  of this place seldom visited

  where hearts slowly

  do nothing but break,

  where old Indian women and men

  sell beadwork and dreamcatchers,

  their pride so distant

  it is carried only in memory

  or forgotten in the blood,

  and where I stand at the water’s edge,

  my clenched fists wide as the river.

  The Road to Chitina

  “It is not good to be poor,

  and there are no coins in the wind.”

  —John Haines

  From a weathered couch near the edge of a road

  Indian men drink beer and count cars passing,

  while inside a poor house of inconvenience

  hungry children wait for their mother

  sleeping off last night’s binge on the

  uncomfortable seat of an old truck.

  Some are born amid surroundings

  where things are not as simple as they seem.

  In this place of interminable despair,

  even the wind, with its faint scent of poverty,

  hurriedly blows through the stirring village

  then out across the wide floodplain.

  Cowboys & Indians #1

  All the children in our neighborhood

  played Cowboys and Indians.

  Of course, Indians always lost,

  their women and horses taken,

  and their teepees and blankets burned.

  It’s a good thing my Indian father

  never saw me playing, always

  dressed as a cowboy in a five-gallon hat

  with two chrome six-guns and a silvery badge.

  The Birthday Party

  After the song was sung

  candles extinguished

  cake and ice cream consumed

  and every present opened

  the guests went outside to play

  Cowboys & Indians

  Indians hid behind trees and hedges

  while cowboys rounded them up

  and after shooting half

  banished the rest to a condemned lot

  on the poor side of town

  Road Map

  After dropping out of high school in the tenth grade

  followed by years of unemployment, two failed marriages,

  and falling off the wagon more times than he can remember,

  Melvin Standing Still wonders where the hell he went wrong.

  So he pulls out the tattered map of his life

  carefully unhinges the torn and ragged folds

  presses it flat on a table with both hands like an iron

  leans over and traces its topography with a finger

  frantically searching for the familiar X that says

  You Are Here

  Riversong

  Tazlina Village, Alaska

  I never want to leave this land.

  All of my ancestors are buried here

  listening to riversong

  from picket-fenced graves

  their wind-borne spirits

  linking past and present:

  sii xu’ane tsiye, Tezdlende Joe

  my great-grandfather, Tazlina Joe,

  sii tsucde ‘eł tsude, Ełdayudesnaa

  my grandmother and her sister, Morrie Secondchief.

  When I finally fall to pieces

  this is where my pieces will fall.

  An Indian Poet Apologizes for His Color

  Johnny Looks-Too-White ponders which

  ethnicity box to check on a job application

  I’m one-quarter Indian,

  three-fourths White—

  three times more White than Indian.

  Half a half-breed. Less than nothing.

  I don’t fit in here or there.

  Which parts of me are Indian?

  Is it a molar, an earlobe, both thumbs,

  my left testicle, the pinky toes?

  Does it exist in that part of my heart

  that only knows sorrow and loss,

  or in my lungs, my duodenum,

  every fourth blood cell?

  I don’t know if I should drum and dance

  and sing to the mountains,

  or go shopping at The Gap

  after an espresso at Starbucks.

  Dreamcatcher

  I used to have a dog named Jesus.

  Every night before bedtime

  he’d go out back

  and bury my bad dreams

  in shallow graves

  like old soup bones.

  After thirteen years,

  he died and the dreams returned.

  I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.

  The Abandoned First Draft

  of the Preamble of the

  United States Constitution

  We the White People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfectly homogeneous Union, establish arbitrary justice, insure domestic tranquility for ourselves, provide for the common defense of White settlements and their economic interests, promote the general welfare by stealing all the land we see, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to all White People our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America subject to interpretation and excluding by law any persons of color.

  This Is Just to Say

  after a poem by William Carlos Williams

  a note tacked to a tree in Indian country

  we have

  torn up the treaties

  you signed

  only yesterday

  which you

  paid for

  in blood

  We’re sorry

  but we need

  your land

  so green, so green

  Telling the News

  “Although the Indians won the battle,

  they subsequently lost th
e war. . . .”

  —from a National Park Service pamphlet

  At Little Bighorn

  the spirit of a warrior

  asks me if they won the war

  and I answer,

  “Yes, my friend.

  You won. You won.”

  Then the spirit of a soldier

  asks me if they won the war

  and I answer,

 

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