The Cement Indian Poem by nathan martin

I did not expect him to be
so stoic.

motionless....

perhaps he had seen
to many cold winters?

never the less there he was
lying there stretched out.

preserved for some fool
like me to walk over.

it was about that time when the
wind began to seem inconsolable.

dry leaves fell from a nearby spruce
landing indiscriminately on his chest.

several others began to cover his eyes.

better get him out!

gotta get him out some how.....

going down to the local hardware store
i bought a sledge hammer and a chisel,
they cost more than i thought.

i returned and began to swing
away starting at his headdress.

i tried to be careful not to crack the
mortered feathers bending down
to use the chisel.

it was slow going at first but i
eventually got him out.

nobody seemed to even notice or maybe
they were to scared to aproach a guy with
a sledge hammer smashing up the sidewalk.

there was a bird however overhead
who watched me, nothing majestic
just a pigeon.

he probably was waiting for some
crackers or something but i took
it as a good omen.

this seemed to help because i was tired,
cracking indians out of pavement
is hard work.

i needed some gatoraid or a cold beer, better
hurry this up i thought.

so i went and pulled my truck up and
managed to hoist him into the back.

he landed in the back of the truck bed
with a thud and shattered into pieces.

a thousand tiny little native son pieces.

i cursed a little partly out of feeling bad
for him and partly for all my lost work.

well the only thing to do now is go
throw him in the river i guess.

so i went up into the hills north
of the washougal river.

way way up to one of its tributaries
called stoney creek.

there i scattered him and said goodbye.

they say pieces of him can be found
all over america now.

however broken some of them may be.....