breakers

Breakers of invasion
Crash and scatter
Some are caught in the tides the
Borders that
Violate sense and
Custom our

Criminal presence and the pounding of
Colonization the
Poet who read about the
Safety of those earlier times when a
Quick settler could sell my skin for a bounty
Along with a wolf skin a
Coyote skin and tell me who was safe with our
Lives a form of theft the
Borders that
Violate prayer and
Tradition sliced through
Families as surely as a
Sale down the river how long can you
Live cut like any other noun from the important connections?
Navel of the world is still off limits the
Umbilical both severed and torn
Enforced still by military law and we are
Moved on by new borders that

Breathe like the waves that have
Heaved and spit new
Borders and

New borders of unwieldy greed


effigies

Point of shift
Sand to
Foam to
Headstone I
Remember the
Taravel tunnel it
Comes in dreams and
Memories of
Field trips and
Quilted coats

Honey sandwiches
Gone transparent
They're running the old
L trains down market these days they
Slip between
Effigies of a west

Made safe
Known until the
Sand shifts again the
Fog shifts again


Kim Shuck is a wide-eyed iconoclast and baker of cookies. She holds a fine arts MFA from San Francisco State, raised three humans, one bird and an array of furred, feathered and finned beings, and has official documentation declaring her everything from a hero to a nightmare. She wanders her home town on foot most days, organizes a regular poetry series at Modern Times Bookstore, and teaches studio art and Native short form lit. She is a lousy housekeeper. Kim has three books currently in print, the latest is Clouds Running In from Taurean Horn Press.