David Selzer is a writer of poetry, prose fiction, screenplays and stage plays. He embraces digital platforms to share his work of more than fifty years… READ MORE


  • CONFLUENCE

    To dominate the conflux of the rivers,

    the Minnesota with the Mississipi,

    a place inhabited for ten thousand years,

    Bdote in the local language,

    Fort Snelling was built on the bluff above.

    The confluence of the rivers was sacred

    to the Dakota Sioux, who believed

    that their first ancestors had come as spirits

    from the stars, and had been made human

    from the clay along the riverbanks,

    with life breathed into them like a newborn’s cry.

     

    ***

     

    As the West became more settled slaves

    were brought to the fort to be bought and sold.

    While the Civil War moved from battlefield

    to battlefield in the East and the South,

    the Dakota, literally starved

    of what was theirs by treaty, rose.

    On the day after Christmas, and seven days

    before Lincoln issued the final

    Emancipation Proclamation,

    thirty eight Dakota men were hanged

    simultaneously, their execution

    having been approved by the President –

    presumably pour encourager

    the remaining two hundred and sixty two

    and the families still incarcerated

    in the concentration camp at Fort Snelling,

    now a National Historic Landmark

    in the city of Minneapolis.

     

    ***

     

    A regiment of ‘Buffalo’ soldiers

    was stationed at the fort. It comprised

    white officers, black troopers and NCOs,

    and thus nicknamed by First Nation people

    either because the soldiers resisted

    bravely like the buffalo or they too

    were being used. They saw no action.

    The Dakota Sioux had been subdued.

    The ‘Indian Wars’, that centuries old

    genocide, were continued elsewhere –

    and Minneapolis grew brick buildings,

    straight paved roads, gas light and water mains.

     

    ***

     

    John Berryman, poet, impassioned teacher,

    university professor, a troubled

    and a troubling soul, jumped to his death

    from the Washington Avenue Bridge,

    Minneapolis, onto the west bank

    of the Mississipi. In some poems

    he has a black-face minstrel persona:

    ‘I don know, Mr Bones. You asks too much…’

     

    ***

     

    Outside Cup Foods Hot & Cold Deli,

    on the roadway, at the intersection of

    East 38th and Chicago Avenue,

    in the early evening of May 30th,

    2020, George Floyd stopped breathing, murdered

    by a white man dressed up in a uniform.

     

     

     



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