Greasy Grass

Trent Jonas

The history of the
Greasy Grass
is the history of
egoists on the wrong
side of history
of those who
ride, yellow
locks like prideful flags
flying from beneath
blue cavalry hats,
the X of
crossed sabers on their brows,
ignoring wiser counsel
in favor of their own (small)
cocksuredness
into the lives and
homes of people
just
trying
to
live
.
I watched my children’s eyes, chained like a
tetherball to the ranger’s arm—
sweeping across
his body before the great picture window—
toward the
creased river valley that
lay beyond the glass,
the ranger, magnificent, admirable,
we rapt, as he
described how
teepees and lodges—
as far as the eye could see—
sprouted on the banks of the
Greasy Grass
how the foolish column
of government men

on the orders of a
(small) fool
who would be general
swept—
like the ranger’s arm—
into the lives and
homes of people
just
trying
to
live
.
It was too much
.
The people rose up
and dyed the
Greasy Grass
red with government men
saving for last the
(tiny) fool
who was no general
as he fell, complaining
pleading on a grassy
ridge, eyes plucked out, head
scalped like a muskrat skin,
skull bald and bulbous as that
of a venetian prince,
and his (small)
cocksuredness stuffed derisively
down his own gaping throat
as the people danced
and mourned
and cheered
and took turns
wearing the blue cavalry hats with
the X of crossed sabers
and donning the strange,
tawny scalp of the (little)
man who dared

sweep up the
Greasy Grass
into the lives and
homes of people
just
trying
to
live

.

Trent Jonas is a Minnesota-based writer, Dad, outdoor enthusiast, and rhubarb pie aficionado. He earned a B.A. in English writing from the University of Minnesota–Twin Cities, an M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of Texas at El Paso, and is currently enrolled in the English graduate program at Eastern Illinois University.