Gabrielle Boisrame
Modern Navajo

A woman sings a prayer in Navajo
Then tells us of her plans for Memorial Day
Remembering her years in uniform;
The day they told her she was unfit
To serve a tour of duty in Iraq.

Then she looks to the sky,
Carbon clouded and rainless,
Tells how the Outside came
Ate up coal from beneath her family's graves
And spewed poison with the occasional dollar bill.

The unwanted people and unwanted air
Pushed to the same desert Corner.
Now she fights the country she once served,
Fights lost homes and disease,
Her windows smashed by those lured by the beast.

And while this literal power battle wages
And her cousins march proudly under red, white, and blue,
Tucson, a few hours away,
Lights its mansions unquestioning
And signs checks to save the rainforest.