First People

It snowed forever

but the people stayed,

hearts like embers

at the heart of a cold kingdom, almighty whiteness

and the wheeling view,

men killing dogs and children to survive.

Times when the people must eat,

and the seal must breathe.

Times like now:

a feather

fastened to a sinew

with frozen spit.

If it comes, if the seal

from darkness comes to breathe.

If the air suddenly blooms, and the hunter

pulling from his height buries the endless shaft

of bright light here to the blue head

of tomorrow…

Comes blood soup,

a stunned perfect eye,

the small black-spotted form.

If a red flame burns in the swirling snow…

then this daughter born tonight

will not be killed.