SANTEE FRAZIER
SANGUINARIA
A bullwhip—handle wrapped
with duct tape, the ends knotted
to halt the unweaving—
a revolver
wrapped in a bandanna, a fillet knife,
buck blade, and a pair of brass knuckles—
flecks
of blood in the dents.
Every Friday, after work, he parked
the T-Bird underneath the shade.
I remember my toes
gripping the limbs
watching as he unwrapped the pistol,
cocked the hammer, squeezed the trigger,
loaded the shells.
I remember the wind
dusting up the hill-side, bending maple
and oak, trailer windows slamming
shut.
He liked the quiet of a ditch, the snap
of skull crushing into smaller snaps, the way
skin flays off the collar bone.
Santee Frazier is a graduate of the Institute of American Indian Arts (IAIA) and received his MFA from Syracuse University. Frazier’s most recent poetry collection is Dark Thirty published by the University of Arizona Press. He teaches in the low-residency creative writing MFA program at IAIA.
