Ode To The Blackfoot

Niitsítapis,

I’ll sun-dance you
till our flesh flaps like two old flags

here’s what you’ve lacked 
from every man Jack
Algonquian princesses,
trim your sails to the wind each day
open-mouthed to the mysterious “it” that rains
and 
I’ll sing praise of your honorable name
s
darling daughters to Lords of the Great Plains