Coat of Arms
By Stephanie Lane Sutton
my family’s crest is a catalyst two bucks back to back
blood red golden rod ivy grows year round
there’s a painting of pontiac’s rebellion hanging in the kitchen
it floats behind my father’s head when i bring my boyfriend
of cherokee descent home to meet him. my father bullets his eyes
at the apple swelling in his throat his car and salary
since my blood is a dowry a thread of unmentionable horrors
(i haven’t spoken to my father in almost a year) there was land
then people then blood just to live hand to mouth feels like a
monthly conquest pockets taught from rent my hips heavy with
battlefields a bed i didn’t have to make but lie in
in america
john sutton fought in the revolutionary war the civil war lived
to a hundred could still jump over a horse legend claims
he died this way taking bets and winning and “he married
an indian princess” (did you know the english word for “wife”
meant “slave”) by “indian” they don’t mean indigenous
but tomahawk and buckskin rebellion quenched like mounted heads
in my grandpa’s office this is why when we go from michigan
to the family reunion in north carolina we sleep at a hotel in a town
called cherokee but see our relatives in bryson all the heirloom
family photos of john have the names of my ancestors penciled in
the names of slaves unpenciled
my eyes are feral congealed
i don’t witness the photograph of my grandfather’s childbride
i see all the legends becoming both true and untrue
my father claims our blood conspires with warriors but not
with names franchised forgotten even in family photos
we’re told to remember all we ever shared was the bed
Stephanie Lane Sutton is a poet, performance artists and educator. Her work can also be found in elimae, The Bakery, and Vocation:Vacation. She holds a B.A. in Poetry from Columbia College Chicago and teaches poetry in Chicago Public Schools.
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