Voices from the Field

Excerpts from Rain Scald Tacey Atsitty



I reach into my pocket: fat
wrapped in intestines is so stiff
when cold. It looks like—

we shouldn’t speak of such things
so young. Instead, knead salt,
flour, and water in this bowl.

These were our toys; I’ve tasted
them: figurines of sheepherders
or soldiers. Should they harden

and be painted, and should a hole
be blown from the insides, from
the intestines. All that salt.

These poems were originally published in Rain Scald ©Tacey Atsitty 2018.