HOW TO ERASE

by Ron Riekki

Sacheen Littlefeather

“Indigenous identity is complicated. 

What I do know is that the impact that Sacheen had on myself was very real” 

—Devery Jacobs 

  

—“The Sacheen Littlefeather controversy highlights a 

debate over what it means to be Native American,” CNN, November 5, 2022

 

“I like you the way you are” 

—Avril Lavigne, 

“Complicated” 

Sacheen Littlefeather’s sister says that Sacheen 

talked about being native in order to get fame. Yet 

her sister is having no trouble denying being native 

in order to get fame. Why wait until someone is dead 

to have the conversation about their identity?… I know 

someone who’s native. Her brother denies being 

native. & in his denial, it furthers his belief that 

 

he’s not native. Whereas, his sister—who is native— 

goes to native events, is deep friends with native 

people, & so she learns more & more about her

native heritage, but when she tries to explain 

those connections to her brother, he has no 

interest… If Sacheen Littlefeather’s sister 

wanted to understand her sister, then she 

 

would have needed to talk to her sister 

to find out what her sister knew, knows, 

will know. Native is narrative. It is 

the stories we unearth, how we grow 

by unravelling what is unknown. 

A CBS News article I read on 

Sacheen Littlefeather said it 

 

reveals the reality of her her- 

itage, but it misspelled her 

name twice in the article, 

listing her as: Sacheen 

Littlefather & Sacheen 

Littlefield (since 

corrected), but it 

 

made me think 

how the cloud 

outside my 

window 

right 

now 

is a 

 

dog, 

no, 

it’s 

a 

c 

a 

t 

. 

Ron Riekki co-edited Undocumented: Great Lakes Poets Laureate on Social Justice (Michigan State University Press).

FAIRY TALES

by W. Luther Jett

Satellite images show bodies lay in Bucha for weeks, despite Russian claims. —The New York Times, April 4, 2022

Let’s pretend the moon

is made from cheese, and bees

go there when they die,

and the river runs backward

on alternate weeks, and, oh,

the tallest peaks

are covered in ice cream—

you could climb them in just

ten giant steps—or fly.

Yes, let’s pretend that we

can fly. Also, let’s pretend

that summer will have no end.

The rifle isn’t loaded. Those

are not dead bodies there,

bloating in the city square.

W. Luther Jett is a native of Montgomery County, Maryland and a retired special educator. His poetry has been published in numerous journals as well as several anthologies. He is the author of four poetry chapbooks: Not Quite: Poems Written in Search of My Father (Finishing Line Press 2015), Our Situation (Prolific Press 2018), Everyone Disappears (Finishing Line Press 2020), and Little Wars (Kelsay Books 2021).

ONCE AGAIN REALITY

by Buff Whitman-Bradley

Source: Puzzle Warehouse

Once again reality

Has collided with fantasy.

Once again the truth

About America

Has crashed into 

Our pretty beliefs

About the basic goodness

Of our nation under God.

And once again 

All the old cliches

Will be hauled out—

“Sure, we’re not perfect,

We make mistakes sometimes,

But at the end of the day

We’re still lucky to be living

In the Land of the Free

The Home of the Brave

From Sea to Shining Sea

Amen.”

And little by little

Memory of the latest grotesque injustice

Will fade.

We will go to the movies,

Watch the Super Bowl,

Have dinner with friends,

Take our kids to the park,

And recede back into 

The collective dream

Of America the Good.

And we will be shocked 

All over again

The next time a cop murders a black kid,

The next time a governor

Poisons a whole city with contaminated water,

The next time a hospital 

Throws an indigent patient 

Out onto the street,

The next time

A vigilante gets away with murder.

Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poems have appeared in numerous print and online journals.  His most recent book is At the Driveway Guitar Sale: Poems on Aging, Memory, Mortality, from Main Street Rag Publishers.  He podcasts poems on aging at thirdactpoems.podbean.com and lives with his wife, Cynthia, in northern California.