So out of love with life am I
and all the time the tide’s rising
and the bullshit’s getting thicker
and there’s more of everything
on the way because that’s
what they’ve ordered. More horses
and buggies, more ointments
and weapons, more processed foods
and laundromats, this Pocahontas thinks.
She dips her toe into the river
of blood and piss that runs
from the crack in her
father’s knee. Just then John Smith’s head
washes up on the beach.