The light sank through the trees and
licked the bellies of the squirrels near the Cherry

Creek bike trail. I heard my own
feet devouring thoughts of love handles

and chubby cheeks. We stopped our pace and rested
our hearts while we waited for you and the sun began to slump.

Dad doesn’t trust shadows. We ran to run to see you
stand beneath the tears of mom. She held two small rocks.

In the light you had scratches from large
boys you would one day stretch your long legs over

and use your heavy shoes to crush the rocks they
threw at your dark face but you were only four years old.

Dad, the redskin, caught fire and ran to find those
boys who cast you off as a ‘prairie nigger,’ and mom

worked her hands to pick off your redskin scabs and she
sleeps with one eye open. I wanted to climb

the rusted trees to release the light and laugh at the
boys of buried love because you love to watch your

red skin glow.

Mica Standing Soldier is studying English at the University of Minnesota.