Poem: Edenslaughter

Edenslaughter

Cartoon sun spitting out radiants,

footsteps of Ohlone,

strolling naked through the valley.

Seafood so plentiful that the

discarded shells create their own topography.

The robes arrive with clothing,

germs, shiny caballeros,

a god who kills his own son.

They force the natives to

work and eat strange foods.

Once at the mission, their

life expectancy is two to three years.

Seeing such terrifying mortality,

the robes send their caballeros to

the central valley, to find more natives.

Centuries later, the church nominates the

leader of the robes for sainthood.

In truth, there were many tribes.

Ohlone is the only name that survived.

They gave it to a college.

I grew up in the valley.

Sang at the mission for my sister’s wedding.

Have never met an Ohlone.

Have seen the holes where they

ground their acorns.

I picture myself at the

tip of the bay, naked, warm,

picking shellfish from the shallows.

I look toward the green mountains and

see a trail of smoke.

From the collection Fields of Satchmo 
Photo by MJV