The Dice Changer

Raven steals your name for an autumn joke: buries you along with it under the thickest hemlock known to chipmunks. Too bad you were awake for the event. He accuses you of asking all the wrong questions over and over. You attempt revolt to prove his medicine wheel is cracked and filling up its own pit. He hollers your face is unmasked and madness has found a home. All stink and rotten fur, he says to you, claims you had a choice and forgot what it was. Now he says your pain must run for the river, the river for the wind. He chuckles and the dark chatters, turning you around until your shadow is the earth’s.