Burial Ground

Grandma never told me
or my mother.
So, I paced my childhood
across the furrowed Palouse.

mound...
             arrowhead...
                             bead...

In my dreams,
her outstretched arms
divide loess and sky,
capricious weathervanes
pointing
                             this way...
No,
       over there.

by Cindy Englehart