Kansas

Buffalo once roamed
This prairie
So thick
It seemed the very land
Was alive in undulations
Of herds moving.

Buffalo hunters
Cattle drovers and soldiers
Arrived
Followed by pioneer families
Who built crude soddies.

This land is virtually soaked
With the blood
Of animals and men
Choked with shock
Grief and despair.

Civilization
Requires a hefty deposit
In blood.

Every sunrise
Dawns upon improvement.
Every new day arrives
With expanded hope.
Progress comes in pockets
Not shovels.

Long ago
I would have squatted this patch
Of chance
With a Henry rifle
And sharp knife
To earn the three dollar price
Of a buffalo hide.
I would have stank of sweat
And coppery blood
Slathered in guts
Meat and tendon.

Today this same land
Is crossed with utility lines
Telephone poles
And highways.
It has been sterilized
Even gentrified
And its gory history polished
Until gleaming with myth.

But if you care
You may softly caress the earth
To feel ancient reverberations
Of pounding hooves.
You may smell the rancid piles
Of hides rotting in the heat.

I caution you…
The past is hardly past.
Just beyond the rise
It waits to join you
In a new blood-letting.