Forget the War

I was forgetting everything
today, driftwood
down at the edge of our
North Dakota beaches,
somewhere the freeway
Indian was in
the garbage skin,

the wound sound
     -Grandpa’s din where
       a hundred acre kid
       was living out hallucinations.

In every move he makes
He's the little blue eggs
breaking as they try to live.

On the North Dakota shore
Where the mountains
of turtles make peace
with the snow,
it's always a struggle to forget
some of the more
Freezing memories;

I held onto you through

Limitations and borders, And beyond you
Thunderbird man, Grape glass can of
Dancing down a broken step dance in
Half Irish English smokes and Indian rose hips.
In grandpa’s grave
There’s a stuffing
from America,
          painted by the highway and ignored,

         Living with the desecrations-
         Into Reservations.