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P.S. You will Do well to try to Innoculate the Indians by means of Blanketts, as well as to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race.

                                     — General Jeffery Amherst in a letter dated July 16, 1763

Over the warming ground, swings toll like clock tower bells.

Squirrels spiral the trunk of a pine.

We fill a pail with sand.

The day is robin’s eggshell fine.

My mother’s shoulder had three shallow scars.

Shining archipelago.

The quiet theaters of our lives.

Immune is a sung word, skirting sorrow.

Kneeling at no registry of toddlers with amorphous voices.

Night sweats without monument.

The lake has the sea on its breath.

One man has an island.

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