Ode to Bronx River
The snake plant reminds me of grandfather
And long walks beneath willow trees
Along the Wecquaesqeek riverbank
Where wigwams and longhouse lodged wampumpeag and Sachem
Cautious of Sa-wana-kie the salt water people
Sawanakie came in his long boat from the easy flowing riverCame out of fogbank near where the rivers meet
Where Sachem and Wappingos approached
Curious of these new salt water men
The bearded one whispered: “Durst not trust them”
And thunder bellowed from their weapons
Arrows heaved in response
Near the shoreline of the “Bronck”
And one Sawanakie slumps still
Two others in crimson heap
As the canoes withdraw to Wecquaesqeek creek
I reflect back at their retreat
Killed by smallpox and malaria
And the wars of 1643
And gone are the villages of Alipconk, Wysquaqua, Rechtuak
And gone is the wampum of black clamshells
And freshly grown corn, bean, and squash
And potato roasted in campfires
And the snake plant reminds me of grandfather
And lone walks beneath willow trees
And wine bottles and broken things
That no one breaks but were broken nevertheless.
Américo Casiano Jr.