Читать книгу The Red Files - Lisa Bird-Wilson - Страница 14
ОглавлениеMétis
Métis road allowance squatters
with their raw camps set up on the edge
of the exact reserve boundary, she sees them all
the time, those kids, school-less, she sees
those half-breed kids who look no different
from herself and her friends, sometimes
in spring, every single thing
they own fits in the wagon pulled
by the one sapless horse, away
for summer work, or back
from winter trapping
her mother says something nice
about the half-breed boy, the one
who comes to the house to visit
and have tea with sugar and sometimes a crust of bannock
she likes him and her mother says he is
a good boy
but then one day in the not-work or trapping season,
he disappears
him and his whole family are moved
away and other families evaporate too
in the middle of the night
shacks burnt into the dirt and raked clean
her mother helps her
understand people
can just disappear
like that
like the seasons or the wind
she says, we are all
impermanent and when the girl looks puzzled
mother says like melted candle wax or snow and then
it’s finished: what are you doing inside,
go out and play
on the empty road, fingers of sunlight
comfort her back and her shoulder flesh;
she runs to feel her own quick breath
