Empty Wombs

a salesman came knocking, staggered
up my steps, his
baby blue polyester stood still against
my reservation rose, against dingy dust stained siding
porch buckled underneath his heavy

pamphlets painted vibrant reds, earth colored kwe dancing
each other outside of circles, hoop skirts, ribbon work
-he told me they were praying, he smelled like he was preying
on brown bottles and bronzed skin, copper colored women
prayers and dancing seemed the same, like calls to heaven, no one has answered

left on hold generations ago

a salesman came to my door, briefcase
packed full of promises

humming johnny cash’s wooden teeth
greasy grass tucked behind his ear,
i felt the earth sigh, plates slip slide
under broken treaty ground
the day the salesman came knocking
searching for IHS patrons, smiling
from pale blue polyester

sterilized. womb in hands. broken tubes.
we’re so ovary this…

the day the salesman came knocking,
wanting to sell me something i could not afford

Posted by

Bozho, Nin se Wapshkanket wi zhe Sarah ndeshnekas, Bodewadmikwe ndaw mine Mshkwedeniyek nbedendagwes. Hello, I am Wapshkankwet, but I am called Sarah and I'm a Potawatomi Woman, I belong to the Prairie Band. I'm a part-time poet, sociologist, political scientist and Funeral Director. I'm also a former Mental Health Professional and this is all reflected in my writing and poetry.

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