Ishi
stumbled into himself,
falling through bush
and rock of grief, hiding
in caves of sunken sockets
to avoid detection.
the sky is shattered
and bow broken
like his people into pieces.
cold is the fire drill,
and colder the hands
which have no one to touch.
spirits cry along the creek bed
(voices live in the canyon stone),
and water sings a requiem
for memory.
Ishi walks out of himself
into a corral,
and surrenders his past.
