During the Night of the Vanishing Moon
Red Wolf Slips a Knife into My Heart
Stephen Gardner

During the night of the vanishing moon
Red Wolf slips a knife into my heart,
Then steals from my tipi and into the dark
As I try to call, call revenge. But the words
Cling to my tongue, no air to push them,
And I take my first eagle feather, forever
In a floating up; and I hear my silence
Slice the wind; and from miles high I see
Red Wolf in his tipi kneel down
To his woman, taking her as I took her,
His smooth face a wolf's grin burning
In the dark, taking her back for good.

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