Oregon
Literary
Review
Vol. 2, No. 2

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Cathy Tagnak Rexford
THREE POEMS


 

UNCLE FOOT

 

skinsewing lineage

traced to origin

 

musky ugruk soles

tread lightly

across shorefast ice

 

silver

sealskin boot

unspoiled for

one thousand years

 

entombed in shelf ice

on beaches of

black bluffs

 

camouflaged

in glacial resin

 

arctic winds

lacerate

exposed remains

 

proof

that a stitch endures

 

 

 

 

 

 

A CARIBOU SKIN MASK

 

On the beaches of Arey Island

I picked the black stones,

the pockets in my parka

sagged with each step.

 

I brought them to Aana

together we ran our fingers

over silkened flint

and we sprouted white feathers.

 

She remembered my face

in the cheekbones of a mask,

I watched her crown wolverine fur

to the edges of beaver scraps.

 

She told me to bite the thread,

and a fiber of sinew got stuck.

I tasted the salted oils,

my mouth watered into the shape of a bill.

 

I braided her hair in two

black ropes and she wrapped

them around her head

with an ivory hairpin.

 

I was named after her sister,

we sat side by side as

she told me stories

of wild geese that married men.

 

 

 

 

 

THE NEGATIVE

 

 

I watch as a negative transforms: he was named after the sound of water smacking skin, shuddering after adrenaline steals his breath. He surfaces against black of bowhead. A harpoon waiting, poised above a man in a white qatignisi. Emergence. Silence broken with a spray exhaled. A bloodmist—the last breath. I flatten a photograph—yellowed reconstructed fragments, edges flake with age and restored by hypnosis. The jawbone of a whale supports squares of earth, in this sod house. His eyes are white, hands and feet sinewbound. A smile revealing ghost teeth, brown, disintegrating as song reverberates in thick moist air. He travels to the origin of taboo, never leaving his body. The odor of thawed tundra remains. A drop of sweat absorbs into the mud as he evokes a spirit in shadows of a seal oil lamp—possession. The only evidence a quiver of heat as I hang my print, glossy, measuring ten feet by ten feet on a wall of the museum and watch as men and women walk past, pause, and carefully tilt their heads distilling meaning from underexposure

 

a collision at the tip of a raven’s beak

bone crushers

shell fracturers

the blackest shade giving birth to copper