Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley
There once was a giant kci-coqols, a bullfrog
big as a hill. He made love to the Lake
and Her children were born of land and water, many
as the pebbles on Her hips, the waist of Her shoreline.
Now, when the Lake is poisoned and Her spirit
will cause people harm, Her children are the first
to tell us. They are the first to die.
—as remembered by a Clan Mother of the Onondaga Nation
Sing long on America as One
body but many parts of the Lake
says great grandmother
Sing long on all the tribes who were
who drank from Her once-blue lips
knelt to wash a child's hair
long black to long black
who are now not but a ghosted edge
mislaid names Red how many
of kci-coqols’ kin must have drowned
in our carnage bellied-up Native in Her body
where white man's hands were washed
blood red to lake blue then white again
says great grandmother
Sing long on how many more deaths
a flood of broken duck necks still
gulp for one last melody Trees gorged
with yellow-bodied canaries choke
on the cancer of men's love
for coal for oil for the glacier's hot
melting in the chandelier of a whisky glass
says great grandmother
Sing long on the price of blood
of black soil of treasure
if men could silo sunlight peddle
its glisten above Her blue body
they would oh they would
says great grandmother
Listen for the old song
for the shore song
for the frog song. Listen
for Her children's one small song
Then sing
with your whole body
sing
for all who are to come
sing
says great grandmother
sing