Bloodless
by Sondra Ball
Bones (dangled in carnivals,
traded by museums,
sold in souvenir shops)
lie silent on their racks.
But I have heard their cries
at Elk Creek,
at Sand Creek,
at Wounded Knee,
pleading out of carpeted plains,
out of sandy shores,
for justice,
for love.
volume 11(6)
This poem is copyright © 2007,
Sondra Ball, all rights reserved.
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