Kyle Scott
Choctaw Woman
~After The Choctaw Before Removal
the year I drew breath
the year 6 teeth left
the year they brought ink
the year cotton did not come
the night we went to war
with our brothers to the North
the day the shot, the musket came
the large harvest
the flood
and the morning the mother dog
gave birth to her last litter
the day the bees froze in their holes
when we thought that they would leave for good
but they grew, with illness
and then we were ill
and the fields were let go
and the nights grew quiet
resenting us; punishing us
and the fire to the North
took away the last of our friends
after that summer, no one
came, only meetings
and no deer. No buffalo. No rabbit.
we grew few, and were told to walk away
from our opening, our mound
and we never saw our sun again.
