Showing posts with label curse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label curse. Show all posts

Monday, May 26, 2014

Leatherlips Curse

Time for the Annual Muirfield Memorial PGA Golf Tournament in my neck of the woods. It is said that Jack Nicklaus built his course on Wyandot Indian burial grounds, and that the tournament is cursed by Chief Leatherlips. It is certainly peculiar that every year, golfers and spectators are drenched with pounding rain. Could it be that Central Ohio just gets a lot of rain this time of year? Possibly. 
  


Leatherlips


Wyandot warrior 
There were signal trees,
bent, tied as sapling maples,
marking the sacred burial ground
of the Wyandot.

They grew into silent curled trunks,
respected by the Sells brothers
and their settlers;
words were their bond.

Two hundred years later:
no one remembers.

The chief sings a valedictory chant,
song of the living dead,
laughs as he calls wind from the Scioto,
rain to avenge his people.

Strident golfers run for cover
in shiny Range Rovers;
spectators under umbrellas
watch torrents of answered prayer. 



tk/May 2014



Masterfully read by R.A.D. Stainforth...