Mary TallMountain

Mary TallMountain Poems

The last wolf hurried toward me
through the ruined city
and I heard his baying echoes
down the steep smashed warrens
...

Soogha eldest brother I never knew,
the people gave you new clothes.
In spring they honored men
...

All we have in this country are police and women.
You can't complain to the police because they might
...

At this very moment
as anti-Marxists
and anti-anarchists
and anti-revolutionary liberals
...

Our plaza is sanctuary
for sunning, eating, and smoking
...

Mary TallMountain Biography

Mary TallMountain (1918-1994) was a poet and storyteller of mixed Scotch-Irish and Koyukon ancestry. Her works deal with the interplay of Christianity with indigenous beliefs and the difficulties of her own life. After her mother died she was adopted by a white couple where she faced prejudice among whites. It is also alleged that her adoptive father molested her. Hence struggle and healing are common in her work.)

The Best Poem Of Mary TallMountain

The Last Wolf

The last wolf hurried toward me
through the ruined city
and I heard his baying echoes
down the steep smashed warrens
of Montgomery Street and past
the few ruby-crowned highrises
left standing
their lighted elevators useless

Passing the flicking red and green
of traffic signals
baying his way eastward
in the mystery of his wild loping gait
closer the sounds in the deadly night
through clutter and rubble of quiet blocks
I heard his voice ascending the hill
and at last his low whine as he came
floor by empty floor to the room
where I sat in my narrow bed looking west, waiting
I heard him snuffle at the door
and I watched

He trotted across the floor
he laid his long gray muzzle
on the spare white spread
and his eyes burned yellow
his small dotted eyebrows quivered

Yes, I said.

I know what they have done.

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