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white river poems 317
-- Is it so simple as that?
No, but it might as well be,
I tell myself, looking out
at a bleak old dry-goods store
through the wildly blowing snow,
and I sit watching awhile,
happy, as darkness comes on.
20 & 21
Next day, try the obvious,
go see at the museum
the plow that enraged the Utes
(Meeker ploughed up the pasture
they used for their pony races),
photos of Utes, of Meekers;
beaded buckskins, arrowheads,
old newspapers, a photo
of the tree where the captive
women were handed over
by the surrendering Utes.
Nice lady in charge tells me
the site of the massacre
is a rancher's hayfi eld, now.
No, you can't get right to it,
it's fenced ranchland, you see. No,
no trace of the Agency
remains, the only building
they didn't burn was later
carried away by the river.
Take this road, you'll see a sign....