sifting
through other mornings
remembering my little indian girl
little miami river revealing
where i exist in the world
i follow moccasin
footprints
to truthful streams
for it is impossible to think
in a sweat lodge
medicine woman emerges
from my silvery temple hair
pouch of tent magic
and a flint
cradled in warm fingers
fallen people
like
fallen snow
are capable of becoming
so frozen
you
no longer sink
into them
i
am determined
to set fire to the ground
and
thaw
you