She Told Me

She always told me
to take a willow branch
and gently whip the spirits
out of the house
calling, calling

Ästam we are leaving
ästam do not stay.

She always told me
to put the food away at night
to cover the dishes
or the spirits
would crackle and dance
whistle in our ears
and drive us mad.

I obeyed.

She always told me
never to eat the guts of
animals while I was pregnant
or the baby would be born
with a rope around the neck.

I yearned for the guts.

She always told me
never to walk over men
while I was in my moon
or they would die from my power.
I thought that was the idea.

She always told me
that Nöhkom, the medicine bag
had given here three cigarettes.
That's why the lizards
walked around inside her head.

I watched the flicker of her tongue.

Louise Halfe

:: note :: . . . want to set aside some space for words not found online . . . valuable words . . words close to home . . . one more . . .