Selling poems to Indians
When I sold the poems
the Indians gave me wampum.
‘Hang on a tick,’ I said,
‘that doesn’t go down a bundle
in Tesco’s.
I’d rather other currency.
If money is out
what about
a night or three
in your tepee?
Hours of exotic redskin sex
followed by post-coital
pipes of peace
round the fire.
How’s about it?’
The reply came carved on a dead
sequoia in hieroglyphs:
deer, feathers,
eagles, horses,
flying axes.
I didn’t understand a thing.
* Vanessa Gebbie is author of Words from a Glass Bubble and contributing editor to Short Circuit, a Guide to the Art of the Short Story (both Salt Publishing). www.vanessagebbie.com
