When the universe
And all her baby stars
Souped down

In clotted clumps
Tightly wound in
Golden-plummed roses –

This is when the sea
Ascended, and all your
Mother’s tribes descended.

(In a pop,
Not a bang.)
“Red paint and crushed

Blackberries will drip
Like plasmic syrup
Down your arms and

Into your bellies.
You will hear the Earth
Sing a lullaby,

Soft as clouds making love.
Our canyons will rupture
And we will bathe in the gush

Of purple-blue paper water.”
But then the sky exploded.
And pellets of dusty snow

Climbed down
And pierced my flesh,
Froze my core,

And numbed my Native voice –
Hushed my sweet mother,
Dyed my ancestors’ blood

To match the soiled snow.