Thank you.
Pōmaikaʻi, I hope your dad wouldn't take offense
to the crack about the Gideons.
I didn't mean anything about that.
We have our next writer, our next poet, Ana W. Miigwan.
She is an Ojibwe poet enrolled in the Keweenaw Bay Indian
Community.
Her poems have appeared in Chapter House and Liminal
Spaces.
Please welcome Ana.
[APPLAUSE]
If Christopher is Beyonce, then I think Pōmaikaʻi is Rihanna.
Chi-miigwech.
This first poem I wrote, it comes from a memory
of when I was growing up.
My brother, he was born with cerebral palsy.
And so his muscles--
you don't have the control-- he's not
verbal and stuff like that.
So when we were growing up he had
to get some of his teeth removed.
They told my parents that they would be taking four
and without their consent, they ended up taking 12.
So this is his poem.
A Myth About My Brother.
For Carter.
I'm feeding the wolf jammy strawberries
when a windigo stalks into the den wearing
the skin of the medicine man.
I ask if it is here for the wolf's teeth.
Maybe it keeps roots or bark in its bag.
It takes the spoon from my hand, peels back the wolf's lips
and yanks until all I see is a beam of red moon.
When it smiles, it has a new set all its own.
Stolen, mismatched, bloody, brittle, no longer bone.
[APPLAUSE]