lamar valley, yellowstone
two sets of wolf tracks side by side
alpha male alpha female

 

study them

because separation
is all this human world
remembers

 

next place tobacco

in the male’s track
before leaving

 

it is a prayer

 

and somehow it all leads back to you

 

just read the tracks, don’t assume anything
let’s look for other tracks my tracking partner says as a question
okay, i say and start walking surprise holds him still for a moment
then he falls into place beside me you’re so agreeable he tells me
i shrug and smile yeah

 

tracking partners
this young man walking beside me gives me otter prints carefully cast

 

he holds my hand to cross the rivers steadies my footing
when stones slick as tongues slide beneath me

 

at night i give him buffalo burgers and laughter to feed on

 

for six nights we sleep in separate rooms

 

one night we talk about stars in the morning he whispers my name
like a wish

 

bear valley
our packs are full and heavy with plaster and the hope we will see a bear
(but not too close)

 

the two jims carry bear spray in their belts

 

chatter and silences punctuate the group’s thinking
and say we are contemplating the moment we meet

 

coming over the rise we make our presence known
with nervous laughter and senseless prattle
comforted by the sounds of our own voices
we are strangers to each other

 

i follow in another’s tracks, cautious but quiet
speaking to the bears respectfully like the unexpected visitor i am
i call to my grandparents, as i often do when i walk in someone else’s land

 

and writing this i know tomorrow will mark seven years
since nokomis walked to that other world along the path of souls

 

signs
indian paintbrush, lydia tells me, pointing
at the plants brushing my thighs

 

near the treeline jim shows us a full set of elk antlers
we pose around them in the middle two young women hold the antlers
and that’s me on the far end, i am thinking i don’t belong here

 

later we find strands of grizzly hair overturned rocks
claw marks in the trees and in the rich black mud by a small stream
grizzly tracks

 

lydia remembers that for two days i have been giving my plaster to the others
do you want to cast these? she asks yes

 

the young man is beside me as always
helping

 

while the cast dries we walk the valley stretches rising
up the slope of a hill

 

grizzly!
i throw down my pack reaching for my binoculars
where? they yell there, i point where?
i fumble with directions, excited    until the others turn their backs to me
wandering to the scratching tree beside us

 

the young man stands with me     i did see one, i say
i know you did and we touch the bear scratching tree
with its bits of hair tangled     the bark worn smooth with rubbing

 

(my thighs are rough
      the skin on my belly is dry)

 

in gardiner
we order more buffalo burgers from helen’s drive-in
the young man eats a few fries from the garbage can
while we squeal and groan in disgusted amusement

 

he pulls out his knife and carves his symbol into the table
while we talk about food like hungry people do
he makes me laugh his youthfulness delights me

 

i think of my former lover and his young woman
younger even than this man and my lover, older than i am

 

a butterfly flies in my face as i write
nearly hitting me between the eyes

 

in the language of spirits… it reminds me
i once wrote of his beauty as a butterfly resting in the tall grass
but i wasn’t brave enough to send the words to him

 

my butterfly

 

now hidden between the thighs of a young
young woman

 

the one who like mukwa
showed himself to me, once

 

today i place tobacco in the deep black earth
of the grizzly’s tracks, remembering that day i wrote his name in the sand
filled the letters with tobacco and prayers then left before the waves
washed him away

 

young man, your beauty is a butterfly flying in the face of my loneliness

 

mammoth hot springs

rises

phallic

beautiful

i fall in love

ten times a day

but always with the same one

 

overhead

crow croaks:

kaw!

 

read what you want into it

 

deep valleys, deep waters
another man tall and fair
a storyteller my own kind
he rolls into
my thinking like the hill
rolls into bear valley

 

but you man, you were chaotic and so beautiful
at times calm but unpredictable like georgian bay
where fierce sudden storms have pulled many
to their unexpected deaths
then spit them on the rocky shore
where my home is, always there

 

hold on, let go
butterfly returns
he sits fluttering his wings
while i watch
he rises flies toward me
again nearly touches my face

 

here i am home
again

 

later butterfly sits in the thistle by my side
opening and closing his wings

 

the wind bends the plant but he holds on
and i fall in love with him
all over he is brown and orange
and too delicate yet here he is
withstanding a windstorm

 

when he is ready he will fly

 

and he does

 

butterfly my dear butterfly
resting in the tall grass

 

sleeping
on the seventh night the young man and i sleep on cots in a garage
i undress alone, wondering if i will sleep
i close my eyes, lean to the furthest wall
he is very quiet when he enters but i hear him hesitate
when he sees me, sleeping i don’t dare look at him or speak

 

he is so close, too close he is so close, but not close enough

 

salt lake
at the airport i wait
the young man arrives alone
we stand together, waiting

 

i never know what to say
in moments like this
the words dry on my lips

 

finally i am the last one standing
at the gate
they announce my name

 

we hug and i still can’t find words
for the occasion

 

maybe it is
the ghosts of butterflies at my elbow
leaving me bereft of language

 

and the irony has me wondering
when those ghosts leave me
will it hurt any more?

 

tracks and markings
here your tracks are everywhere that bit of road
this piece of land every room in the house
and here, scent marked claw marked, this skin
proclaims you the biggest and fiercest to have reigned
in the valley between my ribs and though you left long ago
the tree still stands

 

so no one dares to challenge you

 

backtracking
you showed yourself to me, once
then disappeared now here you are
again and always

 

my eyelids flutter two butterflies
remembering