by Dee Allen
The old Lakota prophesy
Has come to pass
In our lifetime.
As any creature
Bound to the land would,
A long black snake
Slithers over turf,
Then travels underground.
Below, it steadlily travels
And along the way,
It gets wounded
By anything, even by
Pouring torrential rains
Falling like a guillotine blade,
And slowly bleeds
Ounces of viscera
Slick, thick and
Deepest of black.
Nearby water and land
Long held sacred
By their tribal keepers
Stand to be fouled,
Corrupted, devoured
Within a widening stain—
How many times will
The breeder of that
Long, monstrous black serpent—
Enbridge—
Make the same mistakes
Before relenting?
Don’t they know pipelines leak?
[ For Krystal Two Bulls. ]