Łčíčšeʔ
She is a wood warbler
hatched
into madness. She
emerged
from milky shell earthen brown blotches
not Rorschach not robin but warbler.
Open-mouthed swallow of hard-
chipped notes, calls smothered
inside
her smoke-gray chamber of throat.
Dis/appearing between branches
muted yellow-green
tail feathers and body dainty clawed toes
white lines half-circle her eyes
sense but can’t see
at the center of night movements
misfire
misreads the body
responds on its own.
Copyright © 2019 by Heather Cahoon. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 5, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
“This poem describes the body's response to trauma, which is one of many related themes explored in more detail in my forthcoming collection of poems Horsefly Dress, named for the only daughter of Coyote, an important figure in my tribe’s oral traditions. The poems—including 'Łčíčšeʔ,' which means older sister—deal with issues stemming from Coyote’s transformation of the world and his decision to leave present certain ‘evils’ including cruelty, greed, hunger, death, etc. In more specific terms, these topics are explored through first-person experiences and the experiences of my family and larger tribal community.”
—Heather Cahoon
Heather Cahoon
Heather Cahoon is the author of Horsefly Dress (University of Arizona Press, 2020). She is an Assistant Professor of Native American Studies at the University of Montana and lives in Missoula.