Poems of Charles Hice 

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 The corn bag

The corn bag
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As the Indian man came over the hill his foot slipped some and he spilled a few kernels he stopped his momentum turned and picked them up he needed the salt on the corn it was unpopped it was the salt he was chewing the corn to get the salt on his tongue.
The leather bag had been chewed by his woman she of the blistering tongue among women no one had wanted her no one had wampum he paid for her with his popcorn.
She loved to hold the white man device over her fire and listen to the popping sound coming from the holder a strang metal thing with a handle so long and a cover on just the one side the other was meshed to keep kernels inside and it worked after the fashion of money bought things not nearly so nice as a real pot would have. She listened to the popcorn sing and she ate the first batch and the man came and left he was running today. She teared and she sighed and she blubbered and cried for she had eaten his portion and he carried the leather now full of unpopped the kernels at least had some salt. The bag she had chewed it to make it more pliant and soft so he could carry the popcorn she made for him eaten in haste by her want. Oh the misery of a poor Indian maiden who has much too much fat on her bones to make love. The man was to be gone for four days on this run and returning was never so certain as that he could fix his poor bag full of corn in the rain and lose all of it to the gray mildew that comes to the leather when wet from the storm. She became morose now in her musing sure that the man was now dying when he returned to the fire and then kissed her and said,
Come to bed. The run will need to wait for the corn to be popped I'm all pooped and put out eye could not go a mile eye need meat and my meat is this corn.
And the love for ewe leatherchew.
Kisses are better than unpopped corns and come we will make all the tribe go and mourn and be jealous of love on this day of my heart.
Now a woman is free in her heart to love man so this Indian maiden has grown fonder of one poor old man and his corn is now popped he can run.


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