Inuit
Linda Hindman He said that he wore his native skins In New York city, laced ankle to hip With fur I imagined him astride that city They may not have stared at the split coat Nor noticed native grace Sewn into leather with bone needles Not quite carefree. Looking tender as summer squash Blooming out of snow In our Carolina heat He said Canadians like the heavy girls the best And we asked why He said Because of the cold, --The thin ones die We laughed He seemed mock serious But unsure, still I asked Do you know one caught by that Cold we cannot comprehend Here where water is so warm that Canadians come to swim in winter. He answered from a face Too young to be so widowed And still searching the snow for her. His child inside. |