EXCERPTS & POEMS BY JOHN SMELCER

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

I try to write
the story of my life
but the words swim
backwards on the page.

So, I tear it up
toss it into the river
where the pieces turn
into a school of salmon—
the first ever
to return to the sea.

HOW RESERVATIONS GOT THEIR NAME

White government official comes out to see
land selected for Indian resettlement;
looks around, scratches his head, says,
“I don’t know. I got some reservations about this place.”

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
After the song was sung
candles extinguished
cake and ice cream consumed
and all presents opened
the guests went outside to play
Cowboys and Indians
Indians hid behind trees and hedges
while cowboys rounded them up
and after shooting half
banished the rest to a condemned lot
on the poor side of town

A COLD FRONT SETTLES
IN THE VALLEY
Sixty below zero all week.
The truck won't start,
dogs won't go outside,
and even the sharp-pointed stars
are too cold to move.

All we do is sit
inside the candle-lit cabin
counting long arctic nights
in our dreams
and waiting along
with the bears and trees
for spring.


THIS IS JUST TO SAY
After a poem by William Carlos Williams

A note tacked to a tree in Indian country
we have
torn up the treaties
you signed
only yesterday
which you
paid for
in blood

We’re sorry
but we need
your land
so green, so green