Métis

Métis road allowance squatters

with their raw camps set up on the edge

of the exact reserve boundary, she sees them all

the time, those kids, school-less, she sees

those half-breed kids who look no different

from herself and her friends, sometimes

in spring, every single thing

they own fits in the wagon pulled

by the one sapless horse, away

for summer work, or back

from winter trapping

her mother says something nice

about the half-breed boy, the one

who comes to the house to visit

and have tea with sugar and sometimes a crust of bannock

she likes him and her mother says he is

a good boy

but then one day in the not-work or trapping season,

he disappears

him and his whole family are moved

away and other families evaporate too

in the middle of the night

shacks burnt into the dirt and raked clean

her mother helps her

understand people

can just disappear

like that

like the seasons or the wind

she says, we are all

impermanent and when the girl looks puzzled

mother says like melted candle wax or snow and then

it’s finished: what are you doing inside,

go out and play

on the empty road, fingers of sunlight

comfort her back and her shoulder flesh;

she runs to feel her own quick breath