Brent Toadlena

the psychos and weirdos paced
the length of the Greyhound linoleum
but you never came
so I wept for those old nights
by Grandma's fire
and the scent of birthing ewes

soon this city will become me
as I struggle and revolt its
wretched grasp of sin
and unlimited supply of poison -

towards dawn the rain will cease
and take with it my loneliness
and heartache for the sandstone
and sage of my home -

they've always had that power over me

From Neon Powwow edited by Anna Lee Walters, Northland Publishing.
© 1993 Brent Toadlena
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