valley ghosts in a long-lost potlatch dance
told me the way to a contra palace
where kingdoms of buried teeth sing under
the elusive guise of a forgotten forest.
following them through across the world:
home at long last from months apart
hearing a chorus i expect settled
the beauty of the world, instead
i am welcomed by an ensemble
stork-white, composed of trained
& bright ethnomusicology students
bringing in their expertise of homelands
to an uneducated huddled mass of red.
what of a community bridge between us and
those before us? viewing it daily but
eventually isn’t it worth remembering
the salishan songs and not just baths & spas?