Selected Poems
Geronimo's hair
Geronimo gazes into the fire.
He slowly raises his head
toward an evening sky.
Geronimo closes his eyes.
He remembers those nights
when he was with Alope and
the breeze from Turkey River.
Both brushing his long hair.
He can see Alope, her drawings and creations.
Her decorations on the walls of the wickiup.
He feels the breeze and plans they made.
Geronimo weeps. She was a good wife.
Geronimo sits among the rocks
and stars, stays hidden in the desert.
He takes his knife, holds his hair with his hand
all together at the back and cuts it, again.
Life was never the same after her.
He lives and walks among shadows, now
Death breathes on the back of his neck.
He smiles and dreams of Alope, brushing.
He slowly raises his head
toward an evening sky.
Geronimo closes his eyes.
He remembers those nights
when he was with Alope and
the breeze from Turkey River.
Both brushing his long hair.
He can see Alope, her drawings and creations.
Her decorations on the walls of the wickiup.
He feels the breeze and plans they made.
Geronimo weeps. She was a good wife.
Geronimo sits among the rocks
and stars, stays hidden in the desert.
He takes his knife, holds his hair with his hand
all together at the back and cuts it, again.
Life was never the same after her.
He lives and walks among shadows, now
Death breathes on the back of his neck.
He smiles and dreams of Alope, brushing.
