Iktomi inches to me.
His trip has eight furry legs.
His trap is eight black-ringed eyes.
He’ll walk me too willingly
into his world-weaving web.
Words I spin, strengthen its strands.
The pull teaches me, new tricks.
This is a re-posting of this poem, because the Blogger gods decided to embark on a massive Fail and eat the first try from yesterday.
Iktomi is not actually a "foreign" god, but indeed very native to this land the Europeans so skillfully swiped (and re-swiped as many times as it took). When I encounter him, I try to escort him outside where he can play his tricks on the squirrels and the possums.