Poem Post: Carrie House, "Sweet Grass"

[radiantfracture]

Content note: this poem is about processing the body of an animal.



Carrie House, "Sweet Grass"

One morning I, Navajo, wake up in Tiwa country
Friend from Taos Pueblo tells me they just killed a buffalo
Ten people are standing around, looking at each other
I watch the tractor's rear wheels come up and off the ground
The operator soon notices and lowers the buffalo
A man cuts the buffalo open
Everyone looks around at each other
Someone asks, "Who here can butcher?"
Someone says, "She can, she's a Navajo!"
I say, "Is this why he drove me up here?"
I ask for a wheelbarrow and a galvanized pail is placed down
I say, "This is for Minnie Mouse, where is a wheelbarrow or two?"
A wheelbarrow and several big buckets arrive
Two men open the cavity and I put my head and arms in
Steam from the inside smells of sweet grass
        I close my eyes and am overwhelmed by the sensation of being
       in a mother's womb
I carefully pull everything out and onto the wheelbarrow and buckets
Everything is huge; the heart, the kidneys, the book, the liver....
My pocket knife is the sharpest knife in the group
One evening I, Navajo, eat buffalo in Tiwa country


I love the way the speaker keeps repeating "buffalo," like she can't get enough of the word.

This feels beautifully paced to me, full of wry observation and joy and ceremony.

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