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.

THE LOVING FATHER (a modern fable)
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a man who had two sons. All their life the father abused and raped the sons until the younger killed himself from shame. For many years, the father had a good career. He was a busy and important man. But one day he retired, the way many men do when reaching a certain age. No longer feeling useful or important, the father became miserable. About the same time—the older son, now a man himself—was embarking on his own career, becoming every bit as successful as his father, only in a different way. Like father, like son. But the father couldn't bear his son’s success. He missed being a busy and important man. Besides, the father worried that his son might one day tell on him for the wicked things he had done. So, he called newspapers and told horrible lies about his son to destroy his reputation so that no one would believe him in the future. No matter what the father said, the newspapers printed it, because, after all, everyone knows that fathers are always kind and loving. No one ever questioned his motives. No one ever wondered, “Why would a father wish to destroy his son?” And so, year after year, decade after decade, the son struggled with sadness and failure. But, he never gave up, despite all the people who read the newspapers and who—whenever they saw the unfortunate son—said to themselves, “There's that no good son who has such a kind and loving father.”


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