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This poem was included in IPM's January 2024 Newsletter.
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I Am All These
I am a beaver lounging
on the bank at Nulato River
my ebon claws clutch a round woods cabbage.
Dagger teeth rip crisp green bites.
Nutbrown eyes watch Indians
paddle upriver in a dory.
I am the tough spruce paddle.
Hardly do I disturb the quiet tide.
In the rower’s grip I sidle along the bank.
The Indian whispers to his children:
“Don’t bother beaver
when he’s eating.”
I am a fat black mosquito.
I buzz around the father’s neck.
He flicks the lines of sweat,
swipes at me, hollers, “Go away!”
Sun hangs, a bloody flower;
Scorched willows wait sadly for rain.
I am a snowflake. I drift
into the dappled green depths
of Mother Yukon
with a thousand others.
We melt and mingle,
dancing the ancient circles.
I am all these.
Mary Tallmountain
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