I have been reading Natalie Diaz, one poem at a time, one each morning as I’m waking.  It’s her first book, When My Brother Was an Aztec, published by Copper Canyon press – which has a poetry dowser that never seems to come up dry.  Here’s one.

 

Cloud Watching

 Betsy Ross needled hot stars to Mr. Washington’s bedspread–
  they weren’t hers to give. So, when the cavalry came,
       we ate their horses.  Then, unfortunately, our bellies were filled
             with bullet holes.

Pack the suitcases with white cans of corned beef–
     when we leave, our hunger will go with us,
          following behind, a dog with ribs like a harp.

 Blue gourds glow and rattle like a two-man band:
     Hotchkiss on backup vocals and Gatling on the drums.
          The rhythm is set by our boys dancing the warpath—
               the meth 3-step.  Grandmothers dance their legs off–
                    who now will teach us to stand?

 There is more, all of it strange, wrung out of sorrow and love.  Find her, Natalie Diaz, you’ll not forget her.