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she kept her honor

so he took her like an animal

but my father’s ghost wept

so she went to the men

like a good American

good people don’t want to believe

in visionaries good or bad

especially when you have red clay mud

starved stabbed scabbed over and over

on your grandmother’s dress from being raped just like her

from ft. Sumter to Wounded Knee

he’d never seen that color red come out of a living fertility statue

my veil is torn

the dog is dead

the natives have resumed their drumbeat

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