1. I hoard dirt in my ears; months later, I pull out a summer dress. The dress is not a dress to be worn but to be hung, like a flag on a wobbly pole that is noticed only when crowded in the mouths of those near it. The dress is not a dress to be worn but to be hung, like an NDN
Billy-Ray Belcourt is from the Driftpile Cree Nation and the author of This Wound is a World (Frontenac House, 2017), winner of the Griffin Poetry Prize. He is a Pierre Elliott Trudeau Foundation Scholar at the University of Alberta and lives in Edmonton, Canada.