Sage Ravenwood

Red Dressing

Weatherworn    dress shaped fabric 
               wind whipped    floating the breeze    
Echoes hung from tree limbs
Faded claret cotton   polyester   linen cardinals
             Wingless beside a highway
Vacant necklines with empty sleeves waving
             to passing cars with blank stares
Bosom hugged tight    Hip snug    Missing a body
An unkindness of ravens flying above
             or a murder of crows black specked diving
The warm breath of a woman fills a dress
              slipped over her head   braids falling free
Warmer than brown eyes staring back 
Flyers nailed with a native likeness    
             Asking    Where are we   Meme my wisdom
                 Murder my flock but don’t you dare see
The native cleaved from an indigenous child
             thrown in a schoolyard grave too many bodies high
History shifting the dirt over red bodies
Once    we were a commercial crying 
             over garbage thrown from cars at our feet
Listen    the missing and murdered still speak
Howling our truth from the torn 
             Remnants of red dresses  
When did I become a mile marker
             striding the highway across nations


Sage Ravenwood is a deaf Cherokee woman residing in upstate NY with her two rescue dogs, Bjarki and Yazhi, and her one-eyed cat Max. She is an outspoken advocate against animal cruelty and domestic violence. Her work can be found in Glass Poetry: Poets Resist, The Temz Review, Contrary, trampset, Pittsburgh Poetry Journal, Pioneertown Literary, Grain, The Familiar Wild: On Dogs and Poetry, Gothic Blue Book Volume VI – A Krampus Carol, The Rumpus, Smoke & Mold, Lit Quarterly, PØST, Massachusetts Review, and Savant-Garde.