This is another Sestina it's called "Addendum
to the Canon," "Addendum to the Canon"
"American literature would not be
complete without a chapter on stomp dances featuring
the Fenders or the Wingate Valley boys.
Life in the 1960s and '70s revolved around Chapter House
dances at [SPEAKING DINÉ].
We were shy rez teenagers but when dance posters appeared,
the droll school week took on a frenzy sense unrivaled.
My sisters and I shrieked under our breaths
at the announcement on KNDN, the all Navajo, all the time
station.
[LAUGHTER]
'Call of the wild,' my mother pronounced,
her only English words that day.
The dance was a glimmer of hope in the chapter
of lonely adolescence.
By mid-week we were in a quiet, plodding, frenzy, breaking up
chunks of coal, washing dishes, chopping firewood,
all family building tasks.
We secured a trustworthy ride to ease
possible parental hesitation.
After a unified and dignified requests, our parents said,
[SPEAKING DINÉ] to the dance, but only if we promise to stay
together and not tease or dance with clan relatives.
[SPEAKING DINÉ] they warn, pronouncing certain doom.
We nodded in unison, being familiar with reservation
mandates.
That evening we waited in a state of rapture
at the crossroad junction for what
seemed like a lifetime for a cousin who agreed to drive us
after our feverish begging.
We dress in creased wranglers and sharp toed boots
after a frenzy of trying on clothes.
But now as the sunset, things did not
look well, the dance begin and no ride in sight.
All the planning and work, now surely life as we
knew it would be over if we were seen standing beside the road
as if to announce the non-existent ride.
We couldn't trudge home now.
This unforeseen chapter forced us to think hard then
take the road less traveled, the irrigation ditch.
The rest of the now oft- told tale
allows as to how the carefully carved, scared, rez
desperados set out in a dark ditch of burnt weeds,
dead brush, and cockleburs.
The frenzy weary aqua net escapees
were fiercely intent on getting to the Chapter
House three miles away.
Upon hearing muffled drums and steel guitars,
we prance out of the ditch and step wearily
into the streetlight as if to renounce our sins.
We dust the suite off, smooth each other's hair, relieved
to be alive for another Valley Boys dance.
Then just like that, life's good fortune
dimmed when we discovered no one had money.
We argued rez style, scolding, pushing, blaming each other
in loud whispers.
Then it was announced that I as the youngest
had to borrow the money.
Just as I began a fuming frenzy, we
spotted that cute Curtis guy.
They pushed me forth to dance wordwise with him.
He donated $20 so we entered the dim Chapter House.
The dance floor was rife with cowboy hats circling.
Then, alas, my uncle appeared.
[LAUGHTER] His eyes announce our peril,
we left in distraught, single file,
weak from hairspray, fatigue and burnt weeds.
He ceded us to our mom and aunties.
It's still unbearable to recall the next week of fieldwork,
chopping wood and work, work, work.
[LAUGHTER]