m. l. smoker cento

navigate imperfectly

these confused blood cells
need to ask you if you have ever regretted leaving
if forgiveness were molded in between my hands
dreaming to the rhythm of horses’ hooves
but I do not remember anymore
and the last road you know as well as I do

we are the kids outside the bingo hall
my cries combust into purple flames
swallowed by glaciers the size of ten thousand buffalo

should I roll on the ground
should I say no northern fields, no distance

we might be left to discover the sound
to forget in different ways. No one notices that the wild
gold stalks trapped in a moment of wind
curse and curse throughout the night

listen for meaning as teeth click quietly together
after that, arrival is what matters most



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

m. l. smoker

The prompt at We Write Poems this week asked that we write a cento. Here’s how they described a cento. First gather some poem lines from one other writer,then without changing any of the content select, rearrange and assemble a new poem from those poem lines.

Then, to add to the prompt, they ask that we pick a poet we turn to for inspiration, or when we are out of poetic sorts. I chose m. l. smoker. Smoker is an enrolled member of both the Assiniboine and Sioux tribes in Montana. The lines in my cento are taken from my autographed copy of Smoker’s book, Another Attempt at Rescue. In her professional life, Smoker is Mandy Smoker Broaddus, head of the Montana Office of Public Instruction’s Indian Education department. After seeing her present Native American educational statistics at a conference in 2009, I wrote a poem for her called overflowing. Check it out if you are interested.