Hoop Dance

_____ For Kevin Locke, Hoop Dancer
July,1989

The sun is a painted pony on the
runaway hoop of the sky.

Grounded at last. Golden
As old grass headed out in the heat,

The pale skull of Yellow Hair is balding
on the bosom of the earth.

Hear that squaw sound keening
along the telegraph wires?

“Custer died. STOP. All divisions massacred. STOP.”
Blue seeps into the dawn like cavalry coats.

Drum sound. Pierced with stars
Bright arrows in the coulees.

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poem by Val Morehouse
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Hurricane Watch

Green. Green the leaves,
and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.

As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair
waves lift, then snap back like springs.
Trees bend and kneel, fling out brown arms
to catch their running children.

Green. Green the leaves, and wind
pours on the forehead of the beach.

See how sand wrinkles in the lee,
and anchors part like lovers
from invisible chains. Ships break
then run their length to freedom.

Green. Green the weeds,
and sea foams on the forehead of the beach.

Women’s names swim to greet the waves.

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poem by Val Morehouse
Added by Poetry Lover
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