Old Bones

Old Bones

Out there walking round, looking out for food,
 a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed that you can crack
 plucking, digging, snaring, snagging,
         barely getting by, 

 no food out there on dusty slopes of scree—
carry some—look for some,
 go for a hungry dream.
 Deer bone, Dall sheep,
         bones hunger home. 

 Out there somewhere
 a shrine for the old ones,
 the dust of the old bones,
         old songs and tales. 

 What we ate—who ate what—
        how we all prevailed. 

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