Reservation

This prairie holds us with its plainness. An ugly wife. We would not stay but children comfort us and we need this flatness. On our table a carp with a tumor on its lip, larva eating its side. An old man laughs, one silver tooth in his head like a galvanized watertank. We are driven back into the land, our raccoon faces banded around the eyes with motorcycle goggles. Every car we had rusting in the yard. We saddle the buffalo and say we are captives. This barrenness holds us down like a wife.