T
HERE’S a story my people tell about a girl
who, in her shadows, rose into a she-bear
the night she betrayed her brothers, a whirl-
wind of silence or coyote possessed her bare
self. Time of loneliness: breast skin flayed,
lain over coals—Beneath the shade of juniper
I sat, age 11, seduced by pages of dark fur
and flame. Hozhoogo, otherwise you’ll jump
into the fire and become blind, just like her
Masani warned before turning to dump
cut cedar near the firepit. She began to hum
night songs in ember light, baring fang & gum.
Copyright © 2023 by Tacey Atsitty. This poem was first printed in The Massachusetts Review, Vol. 62, No. 2 (Summer 2021). Used with the permission of the author.